project reanimated: Book 0
by Amalockh
Summary: A psychologically unstable menace creates an "ideal" universe with all of his favorite Cartoon Characters. To that end, it functions like a twisted, horror RPG. No one knows what's real or fake - or right from wrong. The 8th Chapter is up.
1. Chapter 1

Now, there was a hole, and it was an enormous one; smoke flew up and out of the hole. The hole was pitch black. No. It was a solid, cool pool of nothing that stretched into a soundless abyss. Now nothing wasn't what like you'd imagine it to be; the athiests even lied. In this pitch blackness was a fate worse than hell, and hell was a pair of glowing eyes and deformed insanity. No, hell was a gate where the hole of a gouged eye became the glory hole of rape. Coming out of the bulging hole of nothing were monsters.

It happened in some distant void, beyond the reach of human eyes.

A tall young man assaulted a hideous looking creature with a bizarre looking sword.

"**Final Fury**!" Rapidly swinging it in chains, he cut open and severed the "Spine" in the horrible creature's back. Blood sprayed out. The tall man had green hair, with splotches of red dotting the bottom of his locks. The creature tried lashing back by swiping a multiform claw at his arms, and unfortunately sliced the right arm right off. There wasn't any blood, and the tall man smiled. His name was Kennedy.

"**God's grace heals you of your wounds. Cure.**" A shining light enveloped the tall kid with seaweed-green mane. The arm had been restored, no blood, as if it had _never _been severed at all.

The monster's hideous eye lazily spun till it died quietly.

"That shitfucker nearly broke my arm off." then he tested his new "arm" and said, "Thanks limey." But he turned around and hissed: more of them were coming, so he rushed off, yelling.

He wasn't alone, since he had plenty of "Allies" following behind.

More of the hideous yet dampened down stupid fuckers came charging in throes.

_Shit. Initiate the command. _

(_Attack_)

"**Fire Storm.**" Kennedy raised his hideously designed weapon to the flat sky. As he concentrated…

"_RRAAAAAAWWWWWRR!_" these monsters looked like flat, meshed up pieces of torn newspaper articles, with two arms like stiff branches made of that same paper, and one large pink eye.

Kennedy looked crazy to say the least for standing in front of those monsters casting a spell, and would've lived to regret it. He would've been dead by the time the monsters were already clawing away at the shirt, the frail looking skin, and decimated pubic area.

But he was still standing, defying logic.

The next thing to happen was when the monster on the right, a pussy that began to edge away, got shot at in the head. There was a flash of red and the sound of somebody drawing a _second _gun, filling more of the ugly creatures with bullets in their heads. (**Expanded hit – 28932 point hit**)

"Got HIM."

Finally a red burning flame lit the hideous skin of the papered bastards on fire. For some reason, on top of its' head were _numbers_ going up and up and up. (**49999**) (**32983**)

"That's a high damage count, isn't it, runt?"

Kennedy put away his odd shaped weapon—but suddenly replaced it by making the pieces flying in the air and form a bow! "Shut the hell up. I'm busy!"

"You need to always have grace and decency on the battle, you little blighter." A tall bald man, older and uglier than Kennedy, flashed past with a sword and 5 more of the little fuckers went down with a damage count going up high- (**789982 point hit**) "Perfect."

"You damn old pervert old man. Quit being a fucking show-up."

The old man grinned. "You mean 'Show-off'." Even though at that moment, he'd been gorged through by a needle-like strike. He didn't phase at all. But it still hurt like shit. (**2000 damage sustained**)

"Old man, you're about to die!"

"Oh please, like I _haven't _heard that before." Sure enough, the old man effortlessly pulled out the blade from his gut; no blood. "Now then. Yippie-kye-yay, you fuckless little aliens." It was so plainly made light of that Kennedy thought he was going crazy—till he remembered that was impossible. The Old man began to glow with bright light around his body. (_skill trigger_) "**Moonlight** **Round!**" His accent sounded the way he was "dressed". His black sword swung in a high arc, creating the illusion of a Moon falling down and ripping the aliens in half. The blood making the inside their little, disgusting bodies began to spray out._ Again_:

"**God's mercy heal your soul. Heal!**" A light came around the old man, curing him of his injuries. The horrible gnash near his old-styled fat gut sealed up like new.

Around the odd Kennedy were hundreds of other voices, all which were under the heavy tension of battle.

Kennedy saw one of the aliens jumping down on him, attaching itself on his back. "Damn anime physics. Why'd get distracted long enough for _that _to happen! NGGH!" Then Kennedy grunted and spread out both arms, creating enough force to blow off the hideous-looking thing. "Now for a little fun, I suppose."

"**Aiming Arrow!** (_Skill Trigger Activated_)" He show a yellow-glowing high energy arrow that pocked the little bastard in the ass and grazed the papery insides to mulch. Millions of indescribable organs flew out as the arrow jumped out- (**32093 point hit**)

Kennedy got happy and yelled, "Cool Blimey! I kicked Duece!" Then laughed.

But at that point the bald old man in black suit looked over his shoulder like he was being watched, and shrieked, "Stop _pretending _to be ENGLISH, YOU JACKASS!"

"Whatever." At his bid, the parts assembling to be an even _bigger_ Sword, one that Kennedy tried holding up with two hands. "_Class changed._"

(_Skill Trigger_) Kennedy turned around to face **3 more **of the paper aliens, grinding his teeth together. "Never gets old." Then in a flash, his body felt like he was on something _high_, but he was only an inch away from the aliens. "You're dead. **Radiant Twin MOONS!**" The Gigantic blade swung up in a left swing, then he pulled it down and swung it up back to the high Right. (**4383 point hit**)

"Yes!"

_POW!_

Kennedy was knocked back. "SHIT!" He couldn't last with his internal ribs cracking like fireworks. It was a nasty sound; the creature caused it to happen. (**3389 point damage**) (**343/900009**)

"I feel weak."

"Oh stop acting like a baby!" A pink blur flashed past Kennedy like a dove. She ducked down the high swing of the huge alien son of a bitch, snarling down on her. (_Skill Trigger_) "**Nova Eruption!**" She raised herself to full height and cast the spell with amazing speed. The Spell effect came, as a high beam of unholy fire pouring down and causing the papery creature to suddenly depreciate like wilting flower. (**2839 point hit**) Right in its' place was a pool of blood, and a faint pentagonal pattern.

"**Healing power, come upon this wretched soul**-!"

"Shut the hell up! I'm am NOT Wretched!" Kennedy screamed, "And couldn't it be Rei on healing!"

"Just shut up and be healed." (**Restored 8329 HP**) Kennedy rejuvenated completely. "All RIGHT!"

"_RRRRROWWWWWWWRRRR!_" Creaking and groaning with half of all the horrible parts making it up already missing, it blew up, blowing the shrieking young lady back. Kennedy caught her in arms with new.

"Thanks, Genius. You've just scored me 50 more seconds in bed with a beautiful pink woman. Kakow."

The pink-haired girl, Kannono, sending a fist into Kennedy's smart-allic mouth, ungratefully returned this comment. "FUCK off!" she screamed, huffing a little bit shamefully. On the broad-rimmed side, Kennedy saw silhouettes, and indications of blood. He ran up to the next enemy and jumped down with a "HYYYEEEAAAAAAH!"

_SLASH! _(_~ instant kill ~_)

And the second one after it he turned clockwise with a spin and, "EEYYYAAHH!"

_SLASH! _(_~ instant kill ~_)

And the third he slammed down his giant Sword-thing with a Tiger's rage. "DIE!"

_SLASH! _(_~ instant kill ~_)

More simply came to life, more disfigured, ugly collaborations of newspapers, drooling blood out of their mouths. But that didn't stop Kennedy, or hurt his feelings, actually. The tool in his hand went freeform for a second, then separated into pieces at the might of his will. The pieces flew together in a rapid circle, spinning like a roulette of blades.

"!"

_SLASH! _(_~ instant kill ~_)

_SLASH! _(_~ instant kill ~_)

_SLASH! _(_~ instant kill ~_)

_SLASH! _(_~ instant kill ~_)

_SLASH! _(_~ instant kill ~_)

Then the pieces reformed to become the flat broadsword again.

"_!_"

"Oh Crap." Kennedy went bug-eyed as he saw an even bigger version of the Bug, with 50 pole-stretching arms and a big, convulsing eye. But Kennedy smiled. The reason was…

_BANG! BANG! BANG! _( ~ **48,483 point hit** ~ )

Metal pellets shot the fucker square in the eye, making it crack and then bleed. Kennedy jumped back than ran past the oversized monster. The blood never looked so real. It cascaded down into an ocean of blood, and his body was making a bump sound, vibrating

Kannono was there right behind the beast fighting off another furiously. _For a skinny little girl, she's got spunk. And a huge-ass sword_. He was distracted, long enough for Noise to drill a hole through his head.

Normally for any normal human that was an extremely fatal blow, piercing the cerebellum and cerebral cortex into ugly pinks strands soaked with sticky blood. But Kennedy didn't shriek, or blow to pieces, or even budge an inch. He waited for it and…

(_White Magic_)

"**Cure.**" Someone had cast a white light over Kennedy's punctured skull (Blood pouring over like a water fountain) and healed him, and incredibly made the huge hole in the skull shrink back into itself, good as new. (_Restored: 8939 HP_) He was restored completely, like he had NEVER been scratched or fatally struck at all!

Smirking, Kennedy swung back and cut the ugly Noise into nice halves. (**enemy K.O.**)

The next wave was coming down heavy on them from a northerly direction. The emerald-haired kid looked up in seconds and said as calmly as the time of day, "You're picking the wrong fight."

(_Black Spell_)

"**Thunder BLADE!**" came the bellowing call, but it wasn't from Kennedy. It came from a source that was slightly more _effeminate_. The sound of someone swishing a sword up into the air could be heard. The dark sky opened up like a giant door to heaven and a Blade drowned in crackling light descended and upon impact with the growing creatures, took them down in one awestruck slash of a powerful lightning wave. All of the Noise burst into tidal front of devil red.

Kennedy turned in the direction of the one who cast the spell and yelled, "Goddamn good job, Sn- AKCHPTH!" Ken jumped and saw a deformed hand of dead colors grabbing at his feet. "Shit!"

(_attack_) "Eat THIS!" while Kennedy swished the flat large broadsword in his hand it warped into a thinner, sharper-looking version of itself with an angry groan. Then Ken thrust it into the ground, but with such force that he unintentionally blew away an entire field of Noise crawling at the base of Ken's brown soles. Now Ken was standing in the crater of cracked glass. (**4893 point hit**) Infuriated, Ken suddenly exploded with power emanating in a wide-spread field. "BASTARDS!"

More of the Noise, now in 2 Giant-sized, constantly-melting freaks, shrieked for a piece of skin. They didn't succeed, within 45 deadly, invisible slashes by an unseen force; during the subsequent death of both monsters, came the terrible cry of, "_Worthless_, ugly worms. _You can never hope to crush our resolve._" (**38934 hit**)

"Enough of the DRAMTICS, you stupid asshole," Kennedy groaned, not exactly awed by his red-eyed ally's unnecessary denouncing of already dead enemies.

But those same "Dead" enemies resurrected back to life in a reverse-melting process, merging into a 5 arms, straight ugly thing with two wrinkly orbs hanging down at the bottom as it's legs. Both Kennedy and his ally turned and started running off to cover some distance, but the hideous penis-looking thing roared and commenced chasing. "Son of a BITCH!"

"_Who _has a penchant for unnecessary soliloquizing, now!"

"Oh shut the fuck up!"

The huge monster swung 2 of it's five arms down like a hawk, and unfortunately snatched one. "Shit!" Kennedy started kicking his legs in reflex—why does stuff like this always happen to him all the time? "SHIIIIIIIT! And it really doesn't help that I'm getting up by something that looks like a goddamned fleshy banana with two rotten Oranges!"

"Will just drop that little habit of twisted language ALREADY!"

"Kinda in trouble here."

_ROOOOWWWWWWRRR!_

The young man who stood below, with raven-colored hair, opened both eyes wide as they turned red with a symbol of a dove in each of them. "I command you to RELEASE HIM!"

It seemed worthless to order an inappropriately shaped freak of nature to do that, but an ever-widening field of sea red popped against the single eye of the disgusting monster. A moment of stagnancy followed, and the claws crushing Kennedy's bones like a chain begin to unhinge. Kennedy fell with a plop, both eyes suddenly reading with the word "Tilt" on each of them, before popping back to normal and scrambling away. Every time it happened was no less painful.

The monster did a mad dance of fury, clutching his assaulted eye in hurting. The eye was its' most precious organ.

Kennedy at once called out, "Hey! Do a **Scan** on this guy!"

Someone out of view approved his request and said, "Understood. Performing scan." It had a mechanical effect in its' voice.

Then a "Circle" suddenly jumped into view and formed a massive "Ring" around the entire monster, and the mechanical sounding voice explained the following:

"**Testocicles. Lvl: 324 monster. HP: 344532/777083 MP: 0. Weak against Ice Element.**"

"Ice element?" came the thickly accented voice of someone from far away.

Despite their earlier argument, two thin lines of Ice were seen "curving through the air at high speed at the Testocicles. One voice yelled, "**Raging Ice Fang!**"

Both lines curved into air with a loop-de-loop and smacked the face of ugly beast. (~ **79349 point hit!**~) Ice pelted the ridiculous monster like a ball of mud. It fell on its' knees- if they COULD be called that –let out a sharp cry.

But instead of exploding into tiny frozen pieces, the monster remained. Badly torn, but it _remained_.

Kennedy's face blew up like a cream puff. Litterally. Once it deflated, he let out an exhausted breath and yelled, "I'm getting sick of this shit. Why doesn't it die?"

He heard the fancy voice from earlier say, "Good heavens! It's a persistent pest! I will NOT tolerate such absolute impertinence!" The monster roared even louder - Kennedy steadied himself. The thing in his hand vibrated with the vigor of a telephone wire. The other fancy refined voice yelled, "_worm! _I will _CUT _you down to size!" A flash of silver and a commanding knight's uniform breezed past Kennedy like thunder. A flash of steel was raised, full of ill wind. A second flash, (_attack_) suddenly cut open a rift in the Testocicles' disgusting wrinkly body. (**38004 point hit**)

"RAAH! HAH! HAH! HYAH!" In a four hit combo, the 4th hit was a spiralling vertical drop! (**28932 point hit!**)

Unfortunately, the white haired man in armor felt the sickly claws of Tecstocicles punching him in the gut, making him sail all the way back past Kennedy. The impact scarred half of his face into hideous disfiguring. His ear had been cut off too. Kennedy eyes went back to angry slits at the monster, which was back on its rampage. Oh shit. And it was coming over to them. "Somebody heal Alexei!" he screamed.

Too late. The monster reached them and raised a claw to strike down and deal _serious _damage. Kennedy held up his bizzare looking weapon, which now sported the appearance of a massive Battle Axe. But he doubted THAT would enough to defend himself. His eyes desperately went back to the white haired man he referred to as Alexei.

_SWIPE_!

Kennedy fell down with a _THUNK!_ and his body started flashing _purple_. Horrified, he knew EXACTLY what it meant, staring bug-eyed at himself. "AAAGH! I'm **poisoned!**"

"**Esuna!**" A green flow fell over Kennedy, disappearing in rippling rings. (**Status Affliction Removed: Kennedy**)

Kennedy smiled and would've thanked the tan-haired lady, but he had to jump back on his feet. Alexei was struggling to get up, and he didn't once acknowledge that the left side of his face was now a disfigured bloody mess. At the same time, a flamming-haired young woman slid and ducked the swiping fire of the disgusting monster and sent a flurry of fists crashing into its' base. The numbers "Appearing" over the monster's "head" racked up in chains of 5. (**29032 x 5 point hit**)

The monster didn't die. All around Kennedy he could see plenty of the others fighting furiously. One of the deformed and most deranged creatures kept the rain of bullets coming, packed with his rage, followed a positively more _normal_ looking human dressed in all black-toned blue conjuring up a symbol behind his back and taking enemies out in one shot. The deranged horse figure's tail whipped up into a frenzied storm; the horse jumped up into the air with a terrific battle yell and _switched _out a new weapon - A Guitar. He sent the Guitar Crashing with a reverberating _THRUM-UM-UM-UM-UM-UM-UM-UM-UM-UM-UM-UM-UM-UM_, down on two enemies' heads simultaneously. (**DOUBLE K.O.**)

"Shit. You know sometimes he can be a tad more _brutal _than I," Kennedy said. A roar from the monster behind broke his focus on his allies. But it was a painful reminder, when Kennedy had been struck in the back - (**23434 point damage suffered**) "AACKPTH!"

"Watch your position in the battle, you _FOOL!_" On the other side, way out of Kennedy's view, someone or something that had a long nose with two horns and silly-looking hat fired off a volley of high impact shots. The shots laid waste into the enemies one by one, sinking into their skulls like needles. He didn't say anything or act as if he would announce his attacks. He unleashed an attack that had a name "Appear" over his head, the title being, (**Spark Bullet**) and jumped with lightning reflexes. He grabbed an enemy and bit down into it's skull, letting the blood burst out like a fruit's nectar.

Other things happened, out of Kennedy's view: the girl he referred to as Kannono was assisting an extremely vulgar and hairy-looking man with a skinny appearance and rough tail push other enemies into an all but empty spot where rapidly disappearing corpses of **Noise** were dropping like flies. The bald man's mouth curved into an ugly twisted smile. The sword danced perpendicular to his ghost-like movements, as unpredictable as a cat's; he was true insanity. Enemies were flying then disappearing into the Air when their **HP** went down to 0. Explosions were abound and rang out like a black bell, reaching the rhythm of a terrible bolero.

Another woman cast a long shadow over hapless gurgling enemies before sending a wave of purple that cut through them like butter. A chilling wind blew through and reduced their bodies into dust. Other armies of shitty **Noise** hadn't even realized they'd been cut through, and had only a second to think about why they saw the _other half _of their bodies before they didn't _think_ anymore. More them weren't just cut into _twos. _Sometimes, they were cut into _threes._ Claws flashed in the darkness. Claws that diced and breezed through 2 enemies at a time like stacks of papers. They fell and mountains of blood gushed out like geysers. The wielder watched himself go like a time bomb; his tongue jumped out of his mouth and licked his blue skin and silver whiskers. There wasn't any logic to why he breezed through killing **Noise**; no words, no point hesitating. No time for second thoughts. Like the rest of them he was risking himself within an inch of his life. While his claws flashed in the dark, a mightier tier of power struck one enemy down with a heavy blow, coming from a fighter whose clothes were in strong tones of white. A flaming haired woman was knocking enemies left right and center. A white haired man swung his spear around in a massive arc.

"**God's grace give you strength! With divine protection! Healing!**" cried a girl's voice, and a pure light fell over Alexei. Like magic, the wounds that opened up all over the left half of his face suddenly sealed himself. The bleeding from where the orifice opened sealed up faster than a container lid. Now Alexei was back on his feet. (**HP Restored**)

"Absolutely... unbelievable..." Alexei snarled. To be humiliated in this way was such a horrible experience for him. It made him sick to his stomach- which surprised him as well.

The anger boiling in Kennedy, like the blood gushing out of the minor scratches, spilled over into the grip of his axe-like weapon. "_O-o-o-o-o-oh _That did it, THAT DID IT." His body and form rippled.

~ **Animation Switch** ~

Kennedy's form, not in clothing or hair color, shifted to something thinner than before. The shape of his head became exaggerated and large. His mouth assumed a silly "U" shape, and a the brown coat shrank. The eyes that were colored moss green, were now replaced by white circles with simple black dots.

~ **Speed increased. Def - decreased. Attack stablized.** ~

His change was complete. Kennedy disappeared out of sight, and out of range from the Testocicles's automatically grown new arm. The swipe missed Kennedy. (**MISS**)

"RIGHT HERE." The voice boomed behind the Testocicles. Since it had no eyes, it detected things purely by a mechanical instinct. But aside from its' massive strength, it couldn't detect how fast its' prey was. And angry. The next second that followed was accompanied by a single-

_SLASH! _(**CRITICAL - 2098343** **Overkill**)

Kennedy's battle yell was insane.

The monster let out a roar while the gigantic gnash that opened suddenly let loose a geyser of gooey red juice all over the battlefield. It erupted into a hopping dance, like a chicken that lost its' head, as more blood effused from the ever-widening ugly wound. Then it stopped. It STOPPED in one place, in one position, and even the blood fountain froze! The entire frame of the monstrous figure shivered like a bad cold, as it's body reverted into a bright red frame. A sound like a vortex collapsing within itself could be heard, and the sound kept getting heavier when the red frame trembled and faded into nothing.

For unknown reasons, the creature called Testocicles' massive strength built into it unleashed a highly dangerous flash that did nothing beyond letting out a hidden shock-wave, destroying everything else that was hideously deformed and misshapen beyond comprehension. That's right: only more **Noise**. To a much lesser extent, a much, MUCH lesser extent, the bright sphere of Light from the monster's core illuminated the entirely dark battlefield. It illuminated the airborn traces of another strong enemy's imminent appearance. If you were there (Just _try_ to imagine it, I'm not asking you for the entire world, just a few minutes of your "creativity"):

You would've seen Kennedy vibrate and become clear like the surface of a water, before returning to his original form. Maybe his eyes appeared kindly, but they had no life in them, no sign of true liveliness in them, nothing. Just empty. The Ax weapon resumed its' standard shape of a blood-stained broadsword. But if you looked at his eyes, you could just see right through them, _like _the surface of pool of water, but they resisted the flow of time; they didn't ripple, or curl or falter in the wake of pure madness. They were stagnant, A rock worn away in the stream running past him eternally, and within that eternity, was where God could only reside and oversee all things.

When everything was illuminated, you couldn't shut out the sight of the girl in a sky blue dress, raising her sword high. You could see just as well as anybody else. She had a black ribbon holding down the baby pink strands of hair. Her only goal now and forever was being at the beckon of Kennedy. You saw her well-deep affection. You watched her move with such grace, she shames our petty ignorance definition of beauty.

You saw the old man in butler's outfit looking ridiculous. At least, he thought he did, even though he was only killing to stay alive. You saw the old man using a sword, stabbing an enemy in such a realistic and heavy way, that your mouth would've just dropped open. You saw his loyalty, even if that loyalty was brought about through being driven to heights of insanity.

You saw other things.

You'd see the hairy dog wasn't a dog at all, but obviously a smart-looking anthropomorph of a Coyote. The wicked gleam in his eye, the cunning smile, the pulsing muscles in his body, the twitching tails, the sticks of dynamite flying through the air like incoming missiles. Then you'd see him get smashed and the blood comes flying out, but he- it- regenerates since it's drawing on another power. He was practically all over the entire battlefield. You saw his villainous grin, even if he wasn't a villain. You saw he would never give up. You felt his canine instinct take over when dodging fatal crashes. You saw him teleporting from one spot to another instantly, by way of a self-induced portal.

You saw the accompanying human girl with eyes just as empty as Kennedy's, but they made her look more or less like a living mannequin, a doll. You saw her using a thrumming bow, shooting arrows that flashed right on cue into her shaft without a second wasted. The pressure of the arrows piercing an enemy's skull blew her evergreen skirt in the wind, pushing her back as well. You saw her numb surface mask an introverted, despairing world. You saw all of this in her eyes, which burned with the color of a fiery sunset.

And logic be damned, you saw plenty of other weird things in the void.

You saw an albino-skinned reptile with a rough surface, and rough woven hat. Because without it, you wouldn't even recognize him. He was mute, and not irrational. He tasted fear. His actions merged instinct together with tactics. His yellow skinned flashed in the dazzling light. His eyes were like fire out of Hell. You saw his gentle eyes, making every effort to atone, and not embracing the futility of atonement being in vain.

You saw misshapen enemies devourer each other. And you saw that they had a red accent trapping their eyes. You saw their one-dimensional gazes wander till they fell upon each other and obey a single command: descend to Hell. Such aggravating Logic, but they persisted anyway. Now they were lost to the whole devouring of the Devil forever. You saw the eternal pain and suffering in the eyes of the man who "Commanded" them to die. By looking directly into their eyes. You saw the bitterness and chilling smile of a man who in a different form and different "Side", bade the world to listen to him, only to turn traitor and seek the completion of a personal agenda. Now if nothing else, he became a pitiful excuse for a martyr. You saw that with one immaculate wave of the arm, he could read and see ALL an enemy's tactics and choose the best one, and overtake an enemy without leaving any trace that he was responsible. You saw that he was a man who had "Seen" his own death, and looking back, realized what an epic failure it was, how vain, and self-glorified it was. It disgusted him that it could come out of anybody's mind- something so ingenious and well-played, something that he knew was beyond sinful. He took his own life.

You saw an elderly looking imaginary creature staying as far away from the insanity as much as possible. You saw he was one who desired everything to be in order and straightforward; he wished for no nonsense even if this entire scene was nothing but pure nonsense. He desired proper manners, but his stance was lackluster and completely ignorant of the manners he so desired. His hands had scars in places you couldn't see, concealed in pearly white gloves. You would've seen scars singed like lines of crevasses in his fur. You saw his gray floppy ears aggressively blown back along with his white moustache, trying to withstand the powerful spells he condemned upon enemies. Some burned to a crisp in wake. You saw enemies reflected in his monocle freezing in a chilling wind. You saw them consumed by the mighty jaws of the terra-bound dragon that dwelt in the Earth. You saw a terrible sword of lightning descend and fray enemies. You saw enemies lit up like candles in darkness when struck by heated air. You couldn't see emotion in his eyes, because most of the time his eyes were closed. You thought he was old, but only in appearances. From how he was "Born" into one life, he was actually very young.

You saw the thespian. Or at least, if you were a lower form of pestilence that fed on poison, all you that you cared to see was a lion. You saw that contradiction of twisted minds depraved, sinful and foolish human lies. You saw ears that heard all of them and laughed in their faces, dismissing the notion. You saw him raise his sword high into the air, and aid the imaginary. You saw the second sword of Lightning tremble and shove away the darkness, impaling all the enemies. You saw his face, and ridiculous as it sounds, you saw sentimentalism mixed with overlapping waves of unspeakable horror, only because a pitiful waste of sinful human garbage stole nearly everything from him in seven days.

You saw a fiery haired woman sending blow after blow of pure force into the enemies' center; her reflexes were so unreal, the sight would've made your skin crawl. You saw the fire in her eyes like a bat out of hell. You saw her outrun the enemy, and no one could keep up with her.

And finally, you saw one who tried so hard to enforce Justice. You saw one caught in the grips of confusion, fear, paranoia, and hate. You saw how badly he wished to come to grips with forgiving someone he despised. You saw he was subject of a twisted favoritism. You saw his bullets flash through like Lightning, like divine mercy from the crack of the trigger. You saw something had died in his eyes. You saw the eyes. You saw emptiness. Emptiness that was as deep as Kennedy's. You saw that unlike anybody else, he'd seen and been through a nightmare that was worse than any shit or tribal-born myth imaginable. And he relived that nightmare, the images of everything and everyone he believed was his and his alone taken from him instantly. He couldn't forget if he wanted to. You saw his primitive notion of Justice. You saw how bravely he thought, even if he was the exact opposite. You saw his soot black tail swishing in the demanding current of air, and you saw him pull out a second weapon he'd been concealing up until now, a... massive 6 string Spanish guitar (!), big enough to not just clobber enemies, but to bust open their skulls like shells.

You can see all of this - and you're confused. You wonder why in the world these individual products of someone else's imaginations are brought together in a group, let alone fighting. Their existence was reserved entirely for _humor. _But they made the choice to do this instead. And you're confused as to why they're using _weapons _and _magic_ and unorthodox fighting styles to _kill_ enemies. Most of all, what ticks you off is the faint glow of Green around Kennedy's wrist.

You're frightened from staring into their faces; you don't get why they're DOING this- You want to just yell at them and tell them to explain themselves. You want them to stop doing this wrong thing. It didn't make any sense, and you wanted it to be something a little more sensible, easier for _you_ to look at. You want to make a loud, ANGRY objection to this wickedness.

But the battle's over... the Light faded and you can't see anyone or anything. There's nothing there and no one to watch. And when the second monster comes along, you will reach the end of your sanity. You will want to leave. You won't want to be here anymore.

* * *

(_Scene Change_; _?_)

Coins clinked into the dirty glass. A man with a dirty face went upside down with his gaptoothed grin. He crapped at another stinkin' bet to an obviously crooked game of tatts.

"Al 'ight! the blimmey shant's a shivering Jemmy! Come un, come all! spend a sprat, a pence, or even a bull!"

Two beggering kids sneered at the miserable fuck as he tredged off to the darkness and the wild lights of the 1000 yard stretch of midnight plaza. The night air was ablaze with noise, stuffed shirts, bucktoothed philanthropists in silly top hats. The streets were an ocean of discarded fag boxes (British terminology for Cigarettes, in case some of you ask.) and torn posters decorated in gibberish of 20 syllables each. The poles on cobbled corners were sometimes broken and damp after a nice long soak in the sewers, and occasionally disease addled piss. You wouldn't find vendors on no street, and wherever you went the rank bile of dog shit filled the air and mixed with evergreen like sweet whiskey and it choked your thoughts.

Air reeked with rotten meat. There was nowhere to go and nothing to see but crowded builds and complexes built upon steep hills. Weeds were grass, sewers were second to a dog's home, and the pale-skinned man in green coat juggling little gold shiny things were living the good life, while fucking the welfare checks of wealthy merchants with gold chain monocles. Some times it was wives in the reprising roles. Sometimes the games they offered weren't for any public merriment; sometimes they stretched the envelope and raised the odds. They had meat markets down here in the gallows. They made a lovely limey on surplus organ markets- no it was nothing like medical transplants.

A minor note made by the paranoid tabloids trying to get in on the good story was the "Donation" booths set up in all kinds of dazzling gloss, where human bargains were all the rage. All this in the midst of beat up carnival rides that didn't work anymore, earth-colored bells with stitched cracks, floating spirits of the unborn, and dirty faces beneath dirty coats wanting nothing to do with it, some trying to retain what little pieces they had of their meaningless lives. And the population signs would read "Hobrectston Villa- 28328 served"

But high above the dirty streets of the pitiful carnival were higher districts less populated. There were still higher streets of gyrating twisted aggravation, already ripped asunder by potholes. It was hard luck going down them, especially since the signs were unreadable. Some feared that the decrease of populous was because of the ghouls. Other thought those rumours were the by-product of the already disgruntled nationality, or wanker's bullshit. There were narrow alleys and not many people were stupid enough to be walking at 12:00 at night. They were smart enough to be not _recognised _if _that _counted for anything, but the realistic streets made cosy to a familiar company and that company was silence. To make a note of something I apparently said earlier, the streets were _realistic_. Almost so real you could eat off it, or step right onto a cobblestone or take a stray rock and throw it at one of the street lamps and break it, just like all the other thousands of others in disrepair. But despite this, the whole scene remained untouched like an ancient ruin. The street lamps stayed on.

He stood out amongst the background like a sore thumb and it didn't bother him in the least. It was a satire on an american underview of popular western heroes. For all intentional purposes, there is no way to properly say who or _what _this character is, so we stick with the given definition of anthropomorphic cartoon horse. He was wearing a straight collar jacket and stupid derby, instead of his signature red-gallon hat. And for all the hot shit he believes he is, the fact remains that Malt-whatever-his-name-is is dead. I'm sure he's probably giving you the middle finger, but that's physically _impossible_. He has hooves for hands, and he was sitting his ass on the top of a trashcan lid while letting a fag hang from his mouth. A lot of people in the audience had sour looks on their faces like they'd eaten something bad. (They didn't come here to see this.) When he had worthwhile purpose in life, he made people laugh, and he didn't "kill" anything, and he called himself Quickdraw McGraw. He drew a heavy breath, looked less than pleased and suddenly let out a choice of unsolicited words.

"FUCK you."

Quickdraw shoved both hooves down into the holes of his jacket.

"You HEARD me." He lowered an eyelid and spat in the direction of the voice describing the story. (I'm pissed that he would do this while I'm trying to narrate a badass story.) The fag dropped from his mouth.

Then a green-haired limey retard jumped from behind the freaky horse shape. It was Kennedy. This was Kennedy, and he had no surname, and spoke with something between a cockney accent and a jaunty american 1930's voice.

Kennedy kept walking around, his face going so many ways, his mind was a bungled traffic. "They say that video games have now become the "5th" network. Stuff and _non_-sense as 93 minutes of usage per day and gamers deprive themselves of the things they need. Nutrition... and your Brain! Affecting 4 - 4_5_ year old adults, they incite an interesting side-effect if you'd like to hear: Addiction, depression, and a cold beer. They're a GREAT way to practice taking an aggressive handle on a simple situation like riding a bike or using the _loo_ or shooting a _ball_ into the net. Or maybe committing acts of unthinkable evil out of love for a game you've played."

He paused, his face was starting to melt into a frigid black. "How satisfying is that, when WE, denizens of the Video Game World have a bunch of stupid fucks pretending their ass off to be totally gay icons like LINK, or Banjo-Kaz-OOKIE, or those _extremely _manly "Square-enix" Characters, or that limey Dragon Quest retard, or practicing their Flamingo Tai Jutsu Kunfu Jesus Magic YAKETY-YAKETY-YAK, which is TOTALLY Retarded! And you get pissed watching _me _fight, what crap. What DOES the scouter say about the number on that?"

"To NOT risk a DBZ: Ba budoki- babudokich- babudo-kic- fuck it, those corny fighting game refferences, I'd say well over- wait, since when does it matter? I thought our greatest worry was an uncreative _cosplay_!"

Kennedy shivered. "I keep forgetting about that. I get headaches from just thinking about how most of those Naruto/Sasuke sketches are so much like those Gay-Pride rallies; I could just screw off in a ditch somewhere and DIE."

"Worse part about _that _was getting pushed into accepting Bill Gates crappy Xbox LIVE technology which gives me free internet, which I ALREADY have on a laptop, I mean, seriously, how stupid is it to make people have something they all ready own 5 times over! They DROOL over it, lick it _up_, _fornicate on it_, and worship it like an _idol _or a god."

Quickdraw let out a laugh and said, "They make useless objects, they want to profit off of 'em. But they're not pandering to the needs of a demographic. The well has dried. The shoe's on the other foot, the Gravy Train is gone. They want to satisfy their hunger." a moment of afterthought led the anthromorph to declare, "Did they see what I did? I cut off a demon's head. They're sadistic and depraved enough as it is, they should appreciate it. They don't. And it makes me sick."

Kennedy talked fast. "You're trying to appeal to a sympathy. Don't be irresponsibly brash. Or to put a simple ring on it, it's more complicated than draining the pool. It's all about marketing yourself- It's about respect and using some big-ass fancy moral of ruling order to establish a healthy connection with people to build up their characters in their eyes of civil society that only wishes to adhere to the visual protection of the children. It's about doing as told and taking the stupid **Hi-Potion**. It is about needlessly throwing your rapidly decaying body into the fire of a sick ego-maniacal entity at the command of a drunken 24 year old Game freak who lost the magic of living 8 months ago. It's about finding respect in being cheap." Kennedy paused, looked like he was thinking, then broke into such an exaggerated grin, Quickdraw broke into one of his own. Kennedy broke the fourth wall to the audience in an aside and yelled, "Unfortunately, I'm a by-product being fucking cheap without a SHRED of _repsect in my SOUL, and I don't give a shit! _Oh WAIT JUST THE FUCKING MINUTE! _AM I SAYING _BAD_ THINGS! _AM I BEING RUDE!"

Kennedy cut at his neck with just a simple flick. Blood started flowing out. His head fell off. Then the shuddering body turned around to bend over and pick it up, only for the pants he was wearing, a pair of brown corduroys, to fall down, exposing one of _the _worst asscracks you'd ever seen. As he turned around, the penis at the center was by far, unusually long and it _sparkled_. The body casually placed the nasty, smiling head of Kennedy right back on top, his face a lit with a ghastly, ugly joyousness. Then he pulled his pants up. "AM I OVER-THE-TOP!" He shrieked.

If to prove this point alone, Quickdraw came up and stood there as he handed Kennedy one of his guns and he took it. Only for Kennedy to jumped back pull the trigger in a flash. The gunshot was rude and petrifying, as the bullet grazed through the poor anthromorph's skull like tissue, disintegrating mot of the head as plenty of head and mouth chunks were blown clean off where the skull was. "AM I SICK!" He _snapped_, tossing the gun aside and then proceeding to jump behind the now dead cartoon, and unzipping his pants. Kennedy's face made many wrong shapes as he jumped right on top of the skull, and thrust his whole fucking penis into the new orifice. "Am I a _fag!_" He yelled at the body. He began thrusting till he had satisfaction, sighing as the cum came spilling out...

And then was promptly thrown off by the independant body of the horse who had his head suddenly "Reform" and take a second gun, shooting Kennedy right in his dick. From the small hole blood as well as cum started pooring out, and Kennedy was howling, and shrieking in terror. Walking past a solid glass window, one of his floundering hands smashed against it, cracking it and damaging his hand in the process. The Quickdraw body tumbled and began _humping _the ground. Both characters had demented, nasty expressions on each face, and both were mutilating and humiliating themselves. Till eventually, Kennedy, sick of what happened, walked over and sent a leg crashing behind the wriggling body of Quickdraw - all this as his hand throbbed uncontrollably and bled. The horse got up and was planning to choke the stupid Kennedy who started wiping his face with the blood-stained hand, and was promptly sucker-punched in the face, right back into the trash can. Kennedy grinned, and turned. His mouth curled up, his facial features went between pale and terrifying, and he snarled in an echoey voice: Am I _SCREWED UP IN THE HEAD FOR YA!" _

It went past the point of breaking the fourth wall and he screamed in your face. "I'm A LOT OF THINGS! I SUBVERT THAT STUPID IDEA! I'M AS _cheap as you're gonna GET_!"

I will tell you that out of nowhere, without the slightest sound or provocation, a whole other number of differently animated characters made unsolicited appearances with name tags flashing over their heads like internet icons. Why? Because they were flash messages. They were made to identify. Among these, the more important ones worth mention, were the ones sneering down on you and me, were These are the characters of an RPG that never hit the shelves, because they contradict the notion of being anybody's mindless puppet.

They were all laughing. Because they didn't have anybody using stupid analog controllers or Dualshock (pfft, more like Dualshit) controllers to make them do things that were retarded like walking straight over cliffs, or slamming yourselves into a wall or eating the wrong e-food. You can't just _pause _them, cause it'd be a reminder of how much you suck at video games. You can't hide your face from them cause they see you in the menu or if you wanted to adjust the monitor simply because it's _not fair_ you have to sit at an improper angle. No reason to it, no selfish gain at hand. You are a perfectly ignorant specimen. Nothing personal, really. They laughed at you. They were just laughing at you.

And they were very much alive. While they all dissappeared into unnecessarily bright light balls they were alive. And into the air they sped like missiles and they were still very much alive. You still heard their laughter in an echo and they were still alive. While the battery on your lame and inefficient game system ran, you knew they were still alive. And there wasn't any disc in the insert Cartridge of the port, and you knew they were _still _alive.

And while you probably decided to move out of the hobbel of your parent's poorly furnished basement these completely "Differentiated" Characters were still alive.

And while you have a life they'd be still alive.

And when you're dying they'd be still alive.

And when you're dead they'd be still alive.

And when you lay cozy in _heaven_ they'd be still alive.

Or suffering in _hell_ they'd be still alive.

And though it was night and completely silent they'd be still alive.

And though you don't know the full story they'd still be alive.

And as you find out for yourself they're still alive.

And as you begin piecing the answers they're still ALIVE.

And as you've lost 30 minutes of the precious life God gave you to reading this, _they _were still alive.

Still ALIVE.

* * *

(**A/N: edited**)

**A/N**: Apparently I said something about "Fags" earlier right? Well, "Fags" are British cigarettes. :( It's sad. I admire the British culture but that's all I have to show for it.

And yes, kudos to **Valve **for not coming at me with knives or oxidising gun pistols for the obvious reference to **Portal**, the Video game spin-off from Half-Life.

And now I call **Disclaimers War** - **Copyright (©)**

**Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends - Craig McCraken (Owned by Turner Broadcast - Cartoon Network) **

**Camp Lazlo - Joe Murray (TB - CNN) **

**Catscratch - Doug Tennapel (Nickelodeon) **

**Hanna-Barbera - (Namely, William Hanna and Joe Barbera) **

**Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion - Gorō Taniguchi & Ichirō Ōkouchi**

**Looney Tunes - TB, (Warner Bros)., Mike Maltese Friz Freeling, Chuck Jones, Mel Blanc**

**Tales of the World/ TOTW2 Radiant Mythology - Kosuke Fujishima (Namco Bandai)**

**I DO NOT OWN OR POSSESS THE PROPER PAPERWORK RIGHTS TO ANY OF THE ABOVE-MENTIONED. THEY ARE OWNED BY THEIR RESPECTIVE NETWORK COMPANIES. **

**The Character, "Kennedy" is mine alone, I own the rights. **

End.

**GRAPHIK - Book 1 (reanimated) **


	2. Contents and Opening Song

**A/N: **This story will act like a show. And every show needs an opening music track, right? Well, I'm going to give this one a good opening track. And by "Give" I mean take a track from a pre-eixisting anime for each seasonal Book Arc. The track to be used for this complete revamping of BSHGP, TFVGS, And some other retarded story in Catscratch will be Hitomi Takahashi's "Aozora no Namida", the track used originally for Blood+ first season opening.

Enjoy. ~

* * *

Hitori kiri kurayami no naka kimi no namida no imi o shitta

(Alone in the darkness, I found out the meaning of your tears)

Negau basho fumidashita kedo dare mo kizutsuketaku nakute

(I stepped out toward the place I wished for, but I don't want to hurt anyone)

Umi o wataru kaze wa kyou mo mayowazu ni ashita ni mukau no ni

Kokoro wa doushite ugoki dasenai

(Today, the wind that crosses the ocean will blow straight toward tomorrow again but why can't my heart start moving?)

Donna unmei ga matte irun darou

(I wonder that fate awaits me)

Kuyamitakunai yo umareta koto

(I don't want to regret having been born)

Kanashimi no naka ni yuuki ga aru

(There is courage within sadness)

Kagayaki tsukamu to shinjiteiru

(I believe that I can find the light)

Furishikiru aozora no NAMIDA

(Tears of blue sky, still falling)

Itsu no hi ka egao ni kaeru yo

(Someday it will change into a smile.)

(sequence: A falling real leaf to the surface of a water with nothing in it)

youtube .com/watch?v=QRoBJN6HmLc

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**PROJECT RE: **

**LOADING...**

Contents:

Chapter 0: At the Top of Holbrectston Villas' Peak

Chapter 1: Lack of Creativity (3 Events)

Chapter 2: Aliens Don't have Tails (Catscratch)

Chapter 3: Stalker (FHFIF)

Chapter 4: Happy Camper Planning (Camp Lazlo)

Chapter 5: Magic Medicine (FHFIF)

Chapter 6: Magic Card Trick (Camp Lazlo)

Chapter 7: Pupil Color (Catscratch)

Chapter 8: Personal Gas (FHFIF)

Chapter 9: Culture Shocked (Catscratch)

Chapter 10: Double Meaning (Camp Lazlo)

Chapter 11: More Powerful Than a Loco Motive (Camp Lazlo)

Chapter 12: Under Pressure (FHFIF)

Chapter 13: Fight With Passion

Chapter 14: Dementia / Tournament (Part 1)

Chapter 15: Dementia / Patsy Dies (Part 2)

Chapter 16: A Grotesque and Foolish Dream (Catscratch)

Chapter 17: Nothing Exists But You (Camp Lazlo)

Chapter 18: And You Are But A Useless Thought (FHFIF)

Chapter 19: Like Reading a Story Gone Horribly Wrong (Part 1)

Chapter 20: Like Reading a Story Gone Horribly Wrong (Finale)

Chapter 21: Chess, Pawns and Demon Eyes (Epilogue)

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**--------------------------------------------------------------------NC: Lack of Creativity**


	3. Lack of Creativity

**A/N: Welcome to the official first chapter... of me wasting your life listening to this poorly written drivel. I hope I spelled that correctly. **

**Again, I want to remind you all with the helpful tool of ****underline**** that I'm ONLY doing this as a ****HOBBY.**** Yes. And also my town is a mess. No trash is being picked up. And I'm struggling along to get by, with the College thing. But no fear, right? We have a hope for our future, because our souls have been redeemed. I'll let you figure out what I meant by that. And also, if you haven't read my Profile, go ahead and do so now. **

**As specified in the Pilot chapter of this Story, I have officially disclaimed to owning any of the mentioned characters from their respective Cartoonists, including Networks. I'm doing this merely as a way of entertaining you, the reader!**

-

**Loading Project RE: Book 0. **

**File Recovered - "Lack of Creativity"**

**Proceeding. **

-

(_Scene_: Unknown)

**Tuesday April, 5, 1992 (Past)**

Two people were talking in the place sitting outside the hallway of Beacon Light CRC. Between the open proximity of the nursery and dizziness of the toy the child was sitting on, twirling, twirling, twirling, and they were essentially muddled croaks that made no indistinguishable english. Oh well. His mind was a flurry of indistinguishable thought patterns that didn't properly come together in his head anyway, and that was normal. He didn't care about this whole new field of his development, or the predictable future where he'd have to come across a lot of unpleasant "inconveniences" in his life. That must have been the test sent to him.

**Thursday July 16, 2009 (Present) **

It was an illusionary world made for escaping from the bad place. The bad place people called reality. There was a man that walked down the overcrowded streets of people going to and fro past the blaring noise of cars, buses and meters clinging. He had no idea who was and who wasn't unemployed and honestly, he felt better off not knowing. The world was a terrible enough place as it is.

The man wore an overcoat that ended at the heels, and the pop-up collar covered half his face. One hand was shoved into a pocket and the other hand had the burden of a thousand lines of withered trees. He stopped at a noisy red light and the buses flew past. He looked lost in thought, and the mouth curved into a frown; but he'd done this many times, it was second nature to him now.

Even if his perspective wandered lazily down to the unchanging, broken pavement. It didn't do anything even if he wished it would, but didn't. It remained the same. A silvery, crinkled inning was blown past his line of vision, reflecting the sun. And the pestilence. When stared up, he saw the entire world rushing past, which frightened him. Maybe it was stupid, but what else could he do? He was frightened because he knew something he had no way of knowing whether or not anybody would have known. No inking. No hint. Under the green signal, he obeyed mechanically like it was an unnatural order he'd have to follow. And he would. It was a part of life. There was no getting around it, not as easily as he'd got around the 5th large stone building that afternoon, when the sun at its' highest cast a hypnotic wave of unrelenting heat. Under that wave, the air as he saw it became fuzzy, the wind blew into his face, and the looming twins towering high in the distance on left became nothing but two unimaginably overbearing figures draped in black coats with no faces.

The Big Apple was nothing but a slowly rotting core. And the ants crawling inside it were a monotonous, mechanical breed feeding on every little scrap left inside it. There was no queen to serve, and they were all doing it for themselves. It wasn't for national pride or for the sake of others. Back then, the apple was a shiny beacon to the pillar of success. Well, now that apple had fallen from the tree, and eventually it would crumble into dust and become one with the Earth again. And despite this eventually indefinable fact, his feet denied him any rest. He walked through the heat and noise. He was consumed by the sandy death of a desert, with nary an Oasis to be seen. And if he continued to breathe, he would continue to see no oasis. The only comfort now was the slow and agonizing descent to the world of Death. And after that...

No. He wasn't going to think about that now. He wouldn't. Because as he stared up into the idyllic screen of false light, his whole face was exposed, and he knew he had something to do here. A screen of false stared down on him like an omnipotent unblinking eye, opening the window on a twisted world people were forced to watch. His heart sank- but there was no place it could go deeper. There wasn't anything in his eyes that didn't wish to fly up to that false God and stab it in the eye. It was the source of all that was evil. And it filled his black heart with a black disgust.

These were the end days. People were living out their selfish dreams. People seeped in a dark pool of turbulent, bubbling rebellion. And reality was a cruel dream that tied to a pleasant Nightmare. He watched it all. He watched, and he realized too little. Too late, he ignored everything and everyone around him as he stared up at that hideous smiling demon of people's nightmares twisted right in public on the flashing screens, and found that he was slowly going mad.

* * *

(_Scene Change: Camp Kidney_)

(Insert Abupt Static Scene Transition Effect.)

"_I wish you could die. I wish upon a horrible death. I'm sick of how everything has to have a fucking happy ending for you._"

Clam shot up like a rocket, skinny stick arms flailing in all directions. Normally he'd scream, but he was calmly reserved and few things frightened him to point of screaming. Clam checked his pulse with his left hand in trained habit, and realized that besides being still alive, his blood organ was vibrating at an unnatural speed. An aftereffect of any uncontrollable mental hallucination, he remembered, from months he spent reading his favorite medical training book on body anatomy.

Now Clam was normally reserved for nightmares. He studied them, because he wasn't just a recluse, he was a reserved genius. The albino-skinned pigmy rhino, who loved eating cereal AND finding those sweet merchandized cereal box prizes, he accepted Nightmares; they were a natural part of living, brought on by whatever uneasiness or memory of varying physical discomfort the mind was experiencing. Clam didn't fear Nightmares- if there was any distorted and unnatural mental imagery that went through the part-french animal anthromorphs' head, they were usually fantasies of the grandiose syrupy, sugar-coated sort: sweet, decadent Pancakes!

In spite of this, Clam didn't wake up from either a dream or a nightmare... something felt weird. Like Incredibly weird about how he woke up that morning. Weirder than the usual "Camp Kidney Craziness". He didn't know what it was, and strongly felt like _not _asking anything about it.

What interrupted this train of thought was the sound of a French trumpet horn being played in the background. Raj left earlier, like usual, since it was his job to play the Bugle at 5:00 A.M. This made Raj more able to eat breakfast earlier than any of the other Kidney Beans. At first, Raj complained to Slinkman, the Camp Scoutmaster's Assistant, that this sort of job was a sleep-depriving waste, but Clam discovered that when Raj got an all-summer free pass to McMuseli's low fat "Break Fast" bonanza (The worst thing to happen to a Camper's stomach) as compensation, the fatter and shorter of the two anthromorphs grimaced with pot-bellied excitement and told his two other fellow cabin-mates of "Jelly Bean" that it was a fair trade-off. If it was breakfast and free and therefore free breakfast, Raj had no complaints. Raj loved food, and his stomach loved it too!

Clam's clock read 5:10. Time to get up. His eyes wandered up and down the interior of Jelly Cabin, the screen filters, native american carpeting, library bookshelf, the amazing handcrafted totem pole and the Belgian toaster, one of Clam's personal items. Finally the eyes ended their warbling trip his friend, Lazlo, face-first into fluffy white sheets and poorly patched bunk-bed. Eyes closed and with a serene smile on his face, Lazlo was muttering, "_Free banana bread... _I LOVE banana bread... especially for helping disabled.... zzzz.... shoal fish... raise money... zzzz.... for... a... zzzz... Boarding Anemone...."

Clam would've laughed, and _was_, but fortunately he stifled it. He really had no idea what went through his friends mind. No need to wake Lazlo into an irritable state. Truthfully, _no one _had ever seen Lazlo in an irritable state. Not once, and not ever. Lazlo's whimsical simple-mindedness was an unbreakable mental shield. Clam admired his strength; he was glad no one could provoke Lazlo within an inch of his ability to withstanding. Not even Edward, the local gossip pariah of Camp Kidney, and resident rotten, cheating, poppie-headed, sneaky rule-pushy, neurotic stick-in-the-mud.

It didn't look like heard the bugle at all, but Clam did. The pseudo-triumphant warbling sound of Raj's French trumpet went on with the refrain of the masterful "William Tell Overture" for 3 minutes. Then when that was done, it was followed by dull mechanical voice announcing:

"_Gooooood Morning Kidney Campers, Riiiiiiiise and Shine and report to the Mess Hall at Six-hundred hours for a special morning breakfast of... mmm... hmm... oh. Sausage and barbecue Beans._" The sound system was impressive. It sounded like Slinkman was almost everywhere for a second. But the audio suddenly came back on followed by, "_Oh, and at six-hundred thirty hours Camp Kidney will be receiving a new Camper to join us starting today and for the rest of the summer, and uh, that is all!_ " The speaker went off, then back on. "_And thank you!_" It went off, for real this time. Odd.

_A new camper? _Clam thought. Why now? What was going on? Sure it may have been the start of summer and the 2nd of June, but Camp Kidney had it's regular reserved share of residents. Clam knew that starting with them it was the Jelly Beans, the Pinto, Lima and lastly Indian beans. 3 to 4 were reserved for a cabin, (excluding the "Death Bean".) and the Lima Beans had 4, namely the Lemmings, and since the other number of cabins even Pisum Bean had the unsurprising standard number of 3 beans, it was likely that some lucky cabin was going to have a new addition.

But, nobody knew what was going to happen- and Clam heard his stomach growl aggravated at him- literally, "FEED ME, BOY!!" -so first item of business? Get the lead out, get dressed, and get down to the Mess Hall, before he missed the last serving tray of McMuseli's refrigerated Barbecue Beans.

"Hungry," he said out loud to himself. pushing the bed sheets across, Clam shuffled out of the bunk and kneeled down. He always put his CK standard Shirt and Standard hat right where he could see them. Under the bunk. It was easier that way, because Clam's habit of sleeping-waking was following a military schedule. Raj (And by a long-shot, Samson J. Clogmeyer, Camp Kidney's local resident walking medical Hazard) would've fiercely disagreed, since it was a sloppy arrangement.

Clam leaned and looked over his bed. The Clock read 5:20. He didn't have time to dwindle! (Irony!)

So, he reached his hand down to get a move on his daily happy camper routine, and breakfast, expecting to feel the scratchy textile shirt underneath the bed. What Clam didn't expect to feel was the cold butt of a gun handle. His eyes popped open; now _that _was something you don't usually feel everyday!

Clam ducked down and carefully made sure he didn't bump his 2 horned, long nose into the board floor. He thought he'd gone crazy, picking up the butt of a gun, one he stroked the bottom shaft of to feel up where the trigger was. Confused but not terrified, Clam stared back at the sleeping Lazlo. Lazlo was still snoring. He couldn't have snored any louder. Sure enough it was the butt of a gun-a weird looking gun. It had a faint glow, and a bottom like a knife, and it was unnaturally long for a gun. Too long actually. The conclusion about this out of place object struck him frighteningly quick. Clam remembered when he checked out a book from a library and he loved studying the Civil War history, a fabled treasure in his mental library of historical records that he loved reading about over and over again; The Civil War was an important turning point in history, and sparked the rapidly expanding Industrial Revolution, opening up new fields of weaponry the likes of which Northerners and especially Southerners hadn't seen before. So now Clam knew exactly what he was holding- the shape had the natural feel of a bayonet. But it was like somebody had modified to the point where it had more "Gun" feel than "Sword" feel to it. So now, Clam knew what he was staring at. It was a Bayonet. A Blue-toned bayonet, and it had a pristine finish, like it was brand new, untouched by the blatant grime of Camp Kidney. The next question (Which threatened to burst out of his throat) wasn't "What" now, but "How the heck did something like this get in here"?

-

(_Scene Change: Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends_)

(Insert Abrupt Static Effect Transition)

_She didn't want it to stop, yet she had to figure it out. Unable to control himself either, he brushed his lips against hers. The rest of her quandary temporarily vanished, powerless in the wake of his kiss. She kissed him back intensely, gratefully sinking in the joy that consumed her. His paw roamed through her hair, undoing the ponytail and letting it fall free onto her shoulders._

_Tapping her lips teasingly, his tongue ran across them and she opened them immediately, placing a possessive hand on the back of his head. Their tongues batted each other playfully and his paws tumbled in her fiery red locks, occasionally brushing her neck to induce pleasant shivers. Occasionally, his paws tentatively stroked her face and darted to her waist; he could hardly believe his luck. All those months of longing…and her hands perused his face, down his shoulders, and rested on his chest.... he was falling into her, his heart beat synchronizing with her... _

_-_

"AAAAAKKPTH!!!" He shot up and let out a horrified screech, eyes popping open in extreme shock. Beads of sweat formed on wrinkly features and fell down his whiskers. The startling images of dream were too graphic. They were disturbing, considering that he never had dreams to begin with. As he remembered telling Blooregard Q. Kazoo a year earlier, he had absolutely no time whatsoever to waste on such pointless "Flights of Fancy". In keeping with being more right than he intended, the clocks on his left counter all read, "11:59", "12:00", and "12:01". Set to the absolutely perfect tee. While he thought of Blooregard Q. Kazoo, automatically he thought that it must have been _his_ fault. And he had multiple good reasons to suspect him; the miscreant had trouble written all over his face. Who else could it have been? Who else could've caused the blood to rush to his face like an iguana's skin?

He checked himself, once he got his breath; he had to, at least once. It was important to know exactly when any of things he'd done took place; and he made careful note of it, in his "binky". Shameful business. As he marked it down, he realized his schedule had been thrown off. Badly. It destroyed the entire symmetry of his carefully planned out list of actions to do before the day even started! Now what would he do!?

But he had no idea about where those _feelings _came from. Or why he let such disagreeable and twisted feelings conjure those sick fantasies, those... _dreams_. A cold shudder ran through him. It was like somebody dancing right on his grave.

Putting back on his Night cap and blindfold, he let his head fall back to sleep away the suggestive, chilling mental image, resting in the back of his narrow skull like an ugly wallflower. As his mind became addled with mental scars, he dismissed the nonsense with a simple mechanical notion- Somebody was playing a cruel joke, though he didn't know how, on his head, deliberately implanting visions he wouldn't otherwise have. And he'd see to it that the horrible miscreant be punished post-haste!

Thought settled, he turned his attention over at his door way and saw it slightly ajar. And the familiar blobby shadow disappearing in the very second he took to glance over. he got out of his bed and closed the door immediately. That was _it_. He would give that smug little cretin the final, permanent boot out of this house...

... But seeing as how his schedule was already goofed up by letting himself fall prey to one of Master Blooregards' anything but hair-brained shenanigans, he wasn't going waste perfectly valuable time he could've spent sleeping- He'd have to wait until the day had officially begun before doing anything about that catastrophic blob of an imaginary friend.

Scoffing, he firmly seated this decision in his mind, letting it overshadow the fact that his schedule was completed upset by this random and unwelcome occurrence. And to effectively forget any remnants of dream, he dared to not bring himself to question it in any way. It would be as if he never had the dream at all, so therefore, he had never had _any _of those confusing feelings brought about by the weird dream. Being of sound body, soul, and mind, and having the most power out of anybody in Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends, he would _not _let whoever was responsible get away with this... odd crime, the dreams he had, that he believed were triggered manually; you'd have to get up pretty early in the morning to pull one over on Mr. Herriman.

* * *

(_Scene Change: Bakersfield, California, 12:00 afternoon_)

(Insert Abrupt Static Effect Transition)

_RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE_

_RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE_

_RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE_

_RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE_

_BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!_

_"WAAAAAAAAAFLLLEEEEEEEEE!!!_"

In the internim, Ernst fell flat on his back. So did Mandy, who instinctively remained in her collapsed position amid the bed of cork bottle shavings, while their carefree, giggling grey owner/simpleton watched, tail swishing excitedly from side to side.

"O-hohoho!! Ernst, you fell on your back!! I guess you love to... rumble!! hahahahah!!"

"_WAAAAAAAAAAAAFLEEEEEEEE!!!_"

Clearly the height-dominating older peer hadn't heard his namesake being bellowed out in a hail of fury by his less than diplomatic sibling. Not to mention, it seemed to not phase him an inch the terribly loud rumble shook the entire house to its' very foundations. But there was a reason...

"**WAAAAAAAAFFFFL- **Turn _off that STUPID Polka Music!! It's SPLITTING MY EARDRUMS!!!_"

One enraged, red-faced black cat with sharp-straight ears stood in the doorway, staring at his jiggly-shaped _younger _brother. And still, the raging Polka music went on, and Waffle still hadn't heard him. Mr. Blik's anger vanished- to be replaced with frustration. _Of course_.

Blik walked over to the table and in true Mr. Blikety Blik-Blik Cramdilly fashion, went to town on the "ginormous" vibrating Radio Set playing Waffle's stupid music and chucked it out the open window. It fell to the ground with the loud unpleasant _CRASH!_ though it was no where near as loud as the massive mindsplitting earthquake that seemed to run all the way under the house and probably to the rest of Bakersfield.

Well now with the Radio Set destroyed, Blik turned around, hopefully now getting the attention- no. Blik narrowed his eyes to angry slits. Waffle was _dancing_, still thinking he heard the jovial Polka Music in his mind anyway. Blik sighed. Only ONE thing to do...

_SLAP-PUH!!_

Like every other time, Waffle's head spun on axis, distorting the proportions of his head like heated jelly. Then when it reverted to normal, Waffle finally figured out he was being called upon. So he left Ernst and Mandy to their sandy misadventures under their 1000 watt sun lamp and 100 feet glass container; which he secretly wished to join. "Oh! Hey, Mr. Blik!"

"_Waffle_," Blik said dully to address his brother. "I was just dancing to some of this sweet Polka Music! Wa-wuh-wah-wah-wu-wadda-wah-wah!! Bow!!" Waffle started a scat but got cancelled by another of Blik's stinging slaps. Unfortunately, Blik had no time for this slapstick. "_WILL YOU LISTEN TO ME!?" _

"Okay!"

"GOOD!"

An awkward silence followed and Waffle blinked down at his commanding sibling.

"You wanna Polka Dance?"

_SLAP-PUH!_

"_Yee-OW!! _What'cha got against the sweet art of _interpretive _Dancing!"

Blik rolled his eyes for a second and needed to count down... _slowly _from 1 to 10. In his mind- to get calm... really quickly.

"_WAFFLE_... " Thankfully Blik settled down, and that was good enough. He wasn't _angry_ enough that he'd beat his brother to death with a lead pipe. "Haven't you heard the earthquake?"

"Uh, earth wake?"

"No... earth-_quake_."

Waffle was clearly having a hard time figuring it out.

"Did you say, earth-quack?"

"I said _earthquake!_"

"... _irth-gake_?"

"Earthquake!"

"IRTHKUWAIT!? You mean that country with the French Fries?! You can hear them all the WAY HERE!?"

"I _SAID EARTHQUAKE YOU IMBECILE!_" Blik bellowed with his face full of fury, way past the point a Cat should've been able to with his lungs. "E-A-R-T-H-Q-U-A-K-E!!"

Barely retaining Blik's barely comprehendible spelling of the word in full force of pure anger, Waffle finally got the gist of what he was saying. "OOOOOOOOOOooooooooh... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... you _meant_-!"

"_EAAAARTTHQUAAAAAKE!!!_" Gordon McQuid burst in yelling, his entire face _wide_, and full of heavy, horror, heavier than the ridiculous level of "Scottish" accent he spoke in. Despite the heavy tension in the air created from Gordon's startling exclamation, Waffle stood unfazed. "Yes! That's the word! _Earthquakes! Splee!!!_"

Blik fell back down with a _thump!_ after getting scared into jumping. Naturally he was infuriated that Gordon would just barge in here the _exact _same way that Mr. Blik did, AND steal his thunder about the Earthquake, AND surprise him so badly into the air like that, and what did have to do _any _of that when it was _supposed to be HIS job? _Worst of all, when Blik got scared and jumped, his head hit the ceiling, leaving a crack. Perfect. He'd have to get Hovis in here to fix it up later.

"_GORDON..." _Blik jabbed an angry finger at his mostly wider pot-belly brother. Then at Waffle. "_WAFFLE..._" The Greedy, vein-popping feline couldn't be sure _who _or _what _he was angry with the most. Ah, screw it, he was angry with _both_. Vibrating like a single molecule, he was more angry than when both his idiot brother went along with that whole ridiculous "Love Jackal" fiasco. Which ended badly. And with Blik personally seeing to it that none of Hovis' old band's hideous music records would NEVER be seen again.

"_Lads..._ have you _felt _an Earthquake through here?" Gordon asked, ignoring Blik's 'episode'.

"_Waaaait..._" Waffle interupted him, his ears rising up for the first time in total surprise, as he got a look of stupor criticism on his goofy face. "Are you saying that a seismic uproar of the Earth's outer crust can have emotional feelings!? Stop trying to trick me! LIAR!!!"

"No, no, noooo!!" Gordon tried correcting his less mentally assured brother. "Haven't you _SEEN THE SKY!??!?_"

"Everyone can see the sky, Gordon," Waffle scoffed. "It's big and BLUUUUUUUE... and maybe sometimes yellow..."

Gordon shuddered. "O-o-o-o-o-oh. NOT so much now lads. Take a LO-!" Gordon paused upon seeing the previous wreckage of the window. Then he shook his head anyway. "LOOK outs-IIIIIIIIDE!!"

Waffle stared outside. He let out a surprised, "WOAH!!! That's a lot of Red for a Yellow/Blue sky."

Blik finally stopped steaming, and still holding onto the self-made promise of clobbering both brothers once this silly broha-ha ended, he also took a quick look out the broken window glass. And then he forgot everything else. He, too, was in dumbfounded surprise. "HOLY TUNA SCALES!"

Bakersfield, and probably the rest of the world, looked normal from the ground point. They saw the skyline of the industrious downtown city area and all other neighboring communities close to the house, trees, birds, kids on motorcycles, and the Chumpy Chump Brothers. But... under a _blood red sky!?_

Gordon shuddered and let out a whistle, the pupils in his eyes shrinking to proportions unimaginable. He let out a hopeless, "_Apocalypse... It's the APOCALYPSE_!" and Blik said in an overly-dramatic tone, "It's the END of the World!!!"

Waffle seemed hapless to what Gordon really meant, but answered, "Eh... it kinda looks more like the unnatural coloring of the sky due to some form of cosmic phenomenon that took place in the astro-stratosphere, heavily defying the cosmic rules of the magnetic field drawing a particularly large-massed object within the Earth's gravity belt and in the direction of this entire area, hitting it with such impact that it create a highly damaged crevasse right smack dab on the Earth's crust forming an easily aggravated fault that if aggravated might end up crashing to the center of the Earth where the Goo-spitting Fire Aliens are hiding."

The overly-detailed commentary that fell out of Waffle's curtailing mouth like a stack of cards was met with huge blank stares from both brothers. Then Blik, out of spite, gave him another _SLAP-PUH!!_

"YOU idiot! NONE of the _things _SPEWING out of your mouth make ANY SENSE!!! AND THERE ARE NO _FIRE SPEWING ALIENS AT THE EARTH'S CORE!!_" Blik screamed in Waffle's face. It came with the added feature of wind coming out of Blik's tunnel-sized mouth heavily blowing back Waffle's stringy arms and stringy ears. After the weird silence, Waffle had the nerve to point out, "I said _GOO-_spewing FIRE-ALIENS. Geez. Get it right for once!"

"**THAT'S NOT THE POOOOINT YOU CHOWDERHEAD!!**" Blik yelled, THIS close to wanting to strangle Waffle to shut him up and for personal closure- okay, _just _the "Shutting Up" part thing.

Blik had mighty lungs and looked close enough to exploding, barely able to contain the terrible rage. Gordon, who had a quick moment of careful thinking and careful analysis of some of the blatant half-gibberish Waffle said, suddenly had a change of heart. "Hold the phone Mr. Blik! Waffle may be right!"

Blik scoffed and gave Gordon nasty stares. "Pfft. And I'm Garfield the Cat, 'I hate Mondays', Midgets scare, AND I've got an Bulimic Problem from eating too many plates of Lasagna'."

Waffle stared bug-eyed at his brother before his tone of voice, and arm grabbing Bliks', went into frantic excitement. "SERIOUSLY!? OHMYGOSHIMAHUGEFANOFYOURSHOWPLEASESIGHMYAUTOGRAPHSPLEE!!!!"

Blik slapped his forehead, mentally making a note to _never _act or say anything sarcastic with Waffle around. "What were you yaking about earlier, Gordon?"

"I'm saying that Waffle may have a point. "Red skies" usually means that something fell into the atmosphere, and maybe it's a meteor!"

Blik resisted the sarcastic bite, nothing that Waffle was around. But he said, "A meteor? Are you sure this isn't some stupid "Scottish Myth" from your Scotsy Scottish Scott-scotchular Scottishness?" Blik regretted saying that, once Gordon used his mighty strength to lift Blik in the air with an infuriated grip. Gordon hissed in his brother's nervously smiling face: _nobody _disses the Highland Quid Clan. "NOOO!! No, it's NOT!!"

"Then... _what_?" Blik snickered in Gordon's face. Waffle was still poking Blik in the back with a pencil and notepad thinking how badly he _needed _that autograph from his legendary idol, "Garfield".

"It's _definitely a meteor_."

All three froze at once and turned in the direction of the doorway. It was Hovis, their resident English Butler whose life had been committed to serving the cats of his deceased previous master. Jade-colored feather duster in hand and dirt-stained rag in the other, he'd just finished cleaning nearly all the thousands of windows in the interior of the house... minus the one Blik broke. Truth was, earlier, he'd been gardening and discovered the remains of the "Ginormous" Sony Radio Set Waffle purchased yesterday, along with his nonstop "montage" sized Music Cassette of Polka Music. And he cleaned that up before coming up to Waffle's room to find the source of yells he heard. He was less than surprised. "The reason for the unnatural color of the sky is due to in part to a Meteor... that crashed _near _the house."

Blik's face went rigid while Waffle proudly proclaimed to "Garfield", "Told YA! AACKPTH!!" The power of Blik's anger strengthened his grip on Waffle's elastic furry neck.

Gordon was confused. "Wait, NEAR the House!?"

"Yes," Hovis reiterated. "Also apparently, _Miss Katilda _is at the door requesting for _Mister Blik. _Which is the second reason I came up here." _Another $200 down the toilet on the window, that's the 4th one this week. Fantastic. _

Blik's face went through all the wrong shapes, then blood rushed to each side of his face as he forced himself to stammer out, "K-k-k... KA-K-K-K-KA-K-KAAAT-T-T-T-TTIL...!?"

Gordon snickered: Katilda was their most recent new Neighbor on the premises, with a boastful ego to _boot_. In fact, as Gordon observed in their interactions, miniscule Blik had an obvious crush on the taller lass. And if just as important, her hyper-activeness and greater dominance over Mr. Blik shamed the size of his ego. But now the more important of the latter needed further detail. "Hovis? Did you say the Meteor crashed right near the house?"

"Yes as a matter of fact," he explained. "It crashed 5 meters away, leaving a large crevasse running through the house. It also _tore _the house in half." As he pointed with his finger, all three cats saw that the roof over waffle's room, including the rest of the Cramdilly house, had a long, ugly crack running north. Most of the other rooms upstairs, including Hovis's less than accommodating quarters in the Attic. Blik's mouth fell with a _plop! _while he turned to his brothers and cried, "How did we _NOT SEE THIS!!_"

"You tell me, _Garfield!!_" Waffle sneered down his younger brother/famous media icon.

"Oh Mr. BLIIIIIK!!!" Came the joyful announcement of the high-pitched damsel _of _distress. Katilda suddenly popped into the room from behind Hovis' legs. If anything, the red "eating" up Blik's face went into intense depth. Dumbfounded Waffle couldn't tell what was going on. He thought that Katilda had a crush on a very convincing Mr. Blik-a-like named "Garfield" and Mr. Blik was a million miles off somewhere else. "There's no Mr. Blik in here," Waffle said innocently. "This is my idol, Garfield!"

Blik was officially getting sick of Waffle's running gag, (mostly to keep from humiliating himself in front of Katilda) so only one thing to do: disgruntled rage! Blik started strangling his brother. "THAT DOES IT! _I AM NOT GARFIELD!!" _Before tossing Waffle right out of the window. Waffle sailed out of view with a "WOOOO-_OOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooo....." _(_Crash!_)

But this achievement reward Blik with confused angry stares from Gordon and Katilda, the latter of them making Blik feel ashamed... minimally. Blik was about to begrudgingly say how sorry he was (which wasn't really sorry for much) until all the present company heard Waffle's voice declare, "HEEEEEEEEEEEY!!! THAT IS A BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-"

(_Five minutes later_)

"-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIG Rock that has made a truck-sized Crater in the ground!"

Gordon and Blik's eyes popped open simultaneously, and Katilda declared, "Did _you _guys see that truck-sized Crater in the ground too!? Wasn't that COOL! Ooh! I volunteer to show it to you! Come on, maybe if if we probe it, really a spaceship or maybe it's a gigantic creature of the dark with gangly alien parts or maybe some form of intergalactic Alien that has a form that would totally _buh-LOOW your _Mi-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ind!!!" With the rest of the things she said, her eyes went twinkle eyed, as opposed to Blik's utterly _dulled _ones. "Funny," Blik said. "Isn't Waffle supposed to be the guy who does the ridiculous fantasising around here? H-AAAACKPTH!! LET ME GO!!!" Blik was helplessly caught in Katilda's iron grip, and he wasn't too thrilled about that, especially as she dragged him past Hovis for the stairs to main double doors. Blik's face went every hue of red; maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to be captive to a deranged lunatic you had a crush on after all. Gordon ran after them both, worrying about a number of things, but the thing that suddenly darted in at the last second as top focus of the list: that the meteor might really have been some form of capsule.

By himself as he intended, he was secretly glad. After seeing the scene transpire he went back to work. And as such it meant cleaning even the broken items. Came with the territory. He wiped the sweat off his forehead after spending an hour underneath the abominable sun, trimming edges that were already trimmed but clearly Blik wanted it to be more _right _than that. And now, to be frugal, he anticipated Blik would not any outside sources to fix the roof but rather _himself_. And that was going to be an equally bigger pain than when the Cats destroyed the house on a regular basis. But Hovis didn't groan or complain either way, and proceded with the menial tasks at present, pleasantly surprised at the subsequent distraction of the Meteor.

He wasn't the slightest bit interested in whatever nonsense and utter ridiculous tomfoolery had been taking place outside the house, what with his _master's _meteor fixation after all. They certainly didn't need any unwelcome or unnecessary witnesses. He thought this through with greater assurance as he polished off the fragmented remains of the glass window, no doubt, destroyed in some insane massacre that transpired earlier. Despite what they told him before, Hovis had strong doubts the cats were capable of "Lightening up" their load. He had to clean up a lot of their disasters, but usually when he didn't interfere those messes resolved themselves - sort of. He didn't complain, and Hovis never would, despite getting the short end of the stick. He'd been cut down to size (Literally), had his back hit the ceiling (How can you explain contained "Screams" from a toilet?), _which _by the way, nearly broke his SPINE, _and _his entire humiliating past with "Love Jackal" resurfaced, a horrible second-hand repercussion of breaking the _one_ tradition in the house Waffle and Gordon deliberately ignored. But from that time on and afterward, they didn't let him live it down. He was hurt, but he wasn't allowed any time to heal. It was too much of a burden; and they only served to add on to the load! It made him burn with rage. But he just didn't strongly concern himself with it at all, and certainly not enough to complain or yell. Yes, he just didn't care about anything at all, not even the Earthquake which struck so fiercely and suddenly it left him a bit unsettled, though it produced predictable results.

Now as he moved to the next room, one with a single window overlooking the front lawn, he smugly counted his good fortune (even if he had none, reduced to poor meals, no time to relax, and not a decent bed, and as strictly ordered by Blik, no use of the guest rooms) that this one random occurrence, one that hadn't been brought about by _any _of the Cat's silly shenanigans, wild behavior. With that occupying _their _time, Hovis would've been lucky to get everything done without the added usual craziness. And as he stared out of the window, he realized how lucky he was that it was just the _3 _of them; they were his only burdens and there wasn't anybody else-

"Huh?" In the midst of his sneering, Hovis was about to walk off, but something caught his eye from outside. Outside, Waffle, goofy, goofy Waffle was dancing rings around the gigantic meteor that hit earlier. Blik was ranting, and Gordon was surveying the area damage. Katilda was popping with tons of excitement, and randomly running between Blik and Waffle, her brown hair swishing from side to side. Then as Waffle suddenly sprawled his body over the meteor Blik yelled at him to get down. Figures. Hovis wouldn't understand what bizarre fantasies jumped into Waffle's head-half the time they included newts. A _lot _ of Newts. Gordon as usual was the most cool-headed, and probably still the one cat that actually treated Hovis with a decent level of respect-though Hovis could never openly bear Gordon's wild eating.

When all was said and done, Waffle's face suddenly sported an unfamiliar new look: pure horror. So did Gordon's and Blik's and even Katilda's as a matter of fact. What happened was that a jagged ridge formed at the radius of the truck-sized meteorite. Waffle jumped off in panic and re-rolled down the slope. Smoke leaked out of the giant meteor. (It occurred to Hovis that there wasn't _anybody _else around. Had everybody really fallen out of interest in the whole Alien trend? That _was _ sad.) The lid suddenly popped open like a wine bottle cork. For lack of a creative word, the smoke billowed forth like wine foam when the bottle was shaken properly.

Meanwhile outside, Gordon McQuid Cramdilly ground his teeth firmly together and let slip a pale-sounding "Great _Gopher_..." while Hovis from the second story window, unnoticed by anyone let out a "Good heavens, what in the world?"

In true a la Blik fashion, even though nothing was happening yet, Blik was already playing a series of mental games as to how he could make a quick buck off of this yet-to-be-discovered phenomenal treasure. And whenever this happened Green buck signs appeared in place of his pupils. So you could say in that case, Blik was blinded by greed. Waffle giggled excitedly at the prospect of a brand new alien pet. (Waffle's past attempts at keeping a pet from Outer Space ended with Blik's temporary misfortune, or the unprecedented destruction of a thousand cities, but it was all on _accident_.) The only thing consuming the mind of the tomboyish little feline lady was what, _what _form would this meteorite take in front of them, and whether or not this would produce an adventurous... eh, adventure.

Whatever form of shock the 4 cats or one human that fit so perfectly into the background were experiencing, nothing could've prepared them for what the smoke revealed lying in the sandsoft bed of the meteorite's core as it cleared.

Despite their earlier arguments, Gordon decided that it was Katilda's incredulous ideas of willy nilly that came the closest to their mystery in the end.

Gordon let out another astonished "Great Gopher," and said nothing else.

Blik shot dead eyes on the thing lying in front of him and spoke in such a quiet voice that you barely heard him at all.

"... It's a... kid... no, wait... a human...?"

-

**NC: Aliens Don't Have Tails**


	4. Aliens Don't Have Tails

_- In the previous chapter: _

_"Meet the mysterious black man from the real world with no name. He's pissed at the way the world is. And that's about as vague as any story description can get. Meanwhile in Joe Murray's Cartoon, the "Camp Lazlo" universe, Clam, the albino pigmy Rhino, finds something weird underneath his bed bunk, after Slinkman's announcement about a new camper coming into Camp Kidney. A bayonet!_

_-Meet Mr. Herriman, head of Fosters Home For Imaginary Friends, also the epicenter of the crazy shenanigans of Blooregard Q. Kazoo, Mac, Wilt, Coco, Eduardo, and Frankie Foster._

_Oddly enough, Mr. Herriman had a recurring dream sequence where he's kissing a vaguely familiar-looking red-haired woman. Then he wakes up in shock: he knows he's never had a dream, because he has no time for them! Naturally the Rules and Regulations-abiding large Imaginary Rabbit automatically blames Bloo for the dream, though he isn't even sure how. But did Bloo really make him dream that vivid dream?_

_-Meet Hovis. He's the frustrated 43-year-old Butler in Bakersfield that has to clean up after every mess made by his idiot imbecile Masters- who turn out to be Rich Cats. While busying himself cleaning, he feels a terrifying rumble of an Earthquake, and next thing you know, The Cats are investigating the Meteorite crashing site and discover the Meteor housing a naked kid inside. Naturally Hovis feels like has enough trouble to deal with, but what kind of craziness would this "Alien" as it stood to be bring to the Cramdillies?

* * *

_

**Loading File: Aliens Don't Have Tails**

**Loading File**

**Begin**

-

"Who the hell are _YOU!?_" screamed a gaptoothed imbecile at the first face he was seeing this morning, a day after the tremendous Earthquake. It was a young with unnatural colored hair, and it was an ocean blue. Fact was, you could even smell the ocean breeze in his hair if the wind hit it properly. His complexion was fair as were the simply sized onyx eyes behind his glasses. Luther had no idea what to make of it, but it seemed like this guy was wearing the _craziest-_looking clothing on the block. He was normal sized, but was unnaturally thin and had an innocent face. He was dressed in all black tones, but he was wearing a cape that was the same color of his eyes. The cape ended right wear the lower half began; he wore a shiny, tight-looking material on his legs and finally black boots. Now Luther had been to enough Sci-Fi and Taijutsu Fanbase conventions to know _exactly _what this kind of person was. A _freak_. A 'Humongous' emo fancy-pantsed, anime-devotee, money-wasting 'ginormous' nerd _freak_.

"That doesn't matter," said the younger man, who Luther discovered just now was a few inches shorter than him. He pushed his glasses back when they faltered slightly over the tip of his nose. Luther had never seen such a ridiculous cos-play maniac; and what the hell was with his _smooth_ features? Did this _guy _buy into a life-time supply of tanning creme or what? It made him positively look... _handsome_. And worse, obviously _better _looking than Luther or his brothers Tad and Lunk. But past this unnatural "Good-lookingness" of the retard nerd with the persnickety, serious voice, Luther decided enough was enough and he was going to slam the door on this Comic-maniac. "Have any meteors fallen around here?"

Luther didn't give it a second thought, but did yell in this stupid handsome guys' handsome ugly face, "NO! Just a big, _stupid_, Earthquake came through here yesterday! No Meteors, unless you believe in that retarded stuff about _EE-liens from Outer Space _thing!"

Luther expected that to be the end of the conversation, but the nerd didn't budge or go anywhere; what'd _Luther _do?

The gleam of the sun on this Nerd's sharp glasses cast a glare on Luther's grimy shirt. "An... _Earthquake?_ Like an earthquake ran through this area before?"

"Duh, how should _I _know? Pfft, _moron_." And with that, Luther closed the door, figuring he probably finished that awkward Q & A.

The stranger continued standing right in front of the door, looking frustrated. Questioning the local "yokels" yielded jack shit.

The stranger turned his attention to the rest of the unusually serene landscape. The rolling hills and sunny sky made it seem unlikely that anything out of the ordinary occurred over here. The rest of the neighbourhood wasn't any different. A bee flew past him. Then his eyes fell upon the ornately large dormitory in the distance, just way on the other side of the small slope, separated by a long stone hedge.

Something began to _beep _in his coat pocket, and he took out a handheld device that looked eerily similar to a black gadget children used for occasional electronic entertainment. "Oh. Up there?" he spoke into the black device, whose screen flashed wildly as if in response. "Okay. Let's take a look."

* * *

(_Scene Change_)

Blik burst through Waffle's door... again. And saw Waffle dancing again, this time with all 437 Newts, to a snazzy jazz beat... really hadn't the grey Cat figured out by _now _that they were rich and were clearly ABOVE such ridiculous-looking activities? Well he had to "Re-educate" him then. (threateningly close to an understatement.) _And if I get lucky those Newts will meet Toilet CITY, HAH! _ Blik thought devilishly.

"_WAFFLE!!!_" But instead of going straight over to the Radio Set, Blik's eyes popped to the size of butter pans, and the Newts started jumping on him! "YEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-!!!!"

Blik could handle one stupid cat brother, but _not _437 of those slimy, _disgusting _reptilians! Blik ran down the _long _hallway with the rapid _pitter-patter_ of feet, with the said Newts hot on his trail. On instinct, Blik frantically hucked various items- a _vase_, an ottoman, and a potted Cactus -at the Newts, hoping to impede their obsessive rampage. It didn't; the Newts kept COMING!

"YAAAAAAAAACK!!! WHYDIDITHINKACACTUS COULD SLOW DOWN CACTUS LIVING CREATURES!?"

* * *

(_Scene Change_)

Gordon and Katilda, who chose to remain on the scene for the bubbling excitement, were seated around the bed of a guest room. This guess room looked like all the extra hundreds of them lying around in the house- Complete with cellophane window, table lamp, and a large library of books that would have stacked to the heavens. Both sat in silence, a situation which Katilda was poorly conditioned for.

"Oh, Gordon, this isn't an exciting adventure! Where's the "Plot" device? What about the super cool sword-fighting duels and dramatic self-sacrifice, and the _swooooning _heroine crying over her handsome..." she paused, getting starry-eyed. "_Heerooooooo!?_"

Gordon shook his head. Katilda had heights of delusional grandeur that superseded Waffle's- and that was _scary_. But he couldn't think about this now. They'd have to be calm. Overhead, they both heard the familiar frantic cries of a certain black cat, and lots of blatantly expensive stuff crashing to the floor. But that happened regularly and Gordon wasn't worried about it: just Blik hopefully remembering to _never _underestimate Waffle's Newts the next time.

At that moment, Hovis walked in carrying a silver tray of Gordon's requested "Root Beer Float". He set on the table Gordon had his arm on. But Gordon paid no attention, and gave a quick _thanks_ to the butler. "So... any improvements?"

"No..." Gordon said despondently, after a disquieting moment of worry. "None."

"_**YYYYYYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!**_"

_ZOOM!_

_SLAM!!_

"Mr. BLIK!! KEEP TA' NOISE DOWN!!"

Blik wasn't listening to Gordon. He was reduced to a stretched, bug-eyed pitiful excuse for a feline in the few short minutes of being chased. His heart beat went up and stayed up there, till it was practically threatening to burst out of his chest. He was having a hard time breathing, and pathetically gasped out, "SO... MANY... NEWTS... I'M GONNA... _KILL_.. THAT STUPID... PU-!!" But Blik ceased wasting what little energy he had on disgruntled rage and wisely chose to put it towards recovery, already aware that his dignified graceful and perfect frame was now like a bat out of the gates of Hell.

"Hey, Blik! Come on and join us over here! Wer'e solving..." Katilda's eyes kept doing a shifty motion like she was going out of her way to be suspicious. Then she hissed, "_The mystery!_"

"We aren't _solving_ anything," Gordon tried explaining to her for the 14th time that day. Good grief, without Waffle she was plenty insanity to compensate.

Blik had no idea what they were talking about, and felt inclined to ask. "What are talking about? What mystery? And what is _HE _doing here?" this was directed at Hovis, who didn't so much as bat an eye. Blik jumped his sights back towards the guest bed. "And WHO IS THAT IN THE GUEST BED?" he bellowed, loud enough to break even the sound barrier.

The guest bed had a "host" whose expression was as blank as a plastic doll. Two legs were spread out lifelessly under the sheets. The arms hung to his sides like limp noodles, and there was no pulse in the perfectly normal hands. his head sat on the right shoulder like a mushroom cap. There was no color the cheeks, and he was propped up like a giant stuffed teddy bear- a malnourished, skinny one. His hair was the color of forest leaves. It's most disturbing feature was his eyes: they had no _pupils _in them, they were just... blank white circles.

Blik's lower jaw dropped open and _plopped! _on the floor. In stunned silence, he remembered, _this _was the thing that came out of the meteorite that crashed near their house yesterday. This was the alien!

''Gordon, DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT IS!?" He yelled frantically at his brother. Gordon took one look at his brother like he'd gone completely mental. "Uh... Blik? That's-"

"THE ALIEN!!! IT'S THE ALIEN!! THEONEFROMTHEMETEORITE!! THEONETHAT CRASHEDDOWNTOEARTHNEAROURHOUSE! THEONEWHO-!"

"_Calm down! Calm down!_" Gordon screamed, jumping down to Blik and slapping him silly. "_Of COURSE_ it's the Alien! YOU'RE the one who asked Hovis and me and Waffle to drag him into a guest room!"

"But it'll get... ALIEN slime on the sheets! HOVIS! Get me a bottle of Alien decontaminant."

Having made a professional aim of memorising where everything usually was, Hovis suggested, "The white powder out of Gordon's personal effects, or the chemical solution from the thermodynamics lab in the basement next to Gear?"

"BOOOTH!!"

"HOLD IT!!" Gordon thundered down on Blik. Gordon's face was full of dread, but it was still incredulous at most. Knowing a cancellation of an order when he heard one, Hovis remained where he stood. "Blik, lad, think about this _carefully_. I don't this lad is an Alien. How can he be an alien?"

Blik bit back with a sarcastic, "A _better _question would be why _you're calling _it a "He", when it positively does NOT have A GENDER, being an Alien!!"

In a dull, factual voice, Gordon sternly replied, "Mr. Blik. Did you see the... um... the the thing at base of its' legs?"

Blik narrowed his eyes to horrified slits. Katilda found this conversation to be getting more interesting. "I... don't know what you're talking about. What ARE you talking about? That alien was scrunched up in a little ball like a peanut!"

Gordon rolled his eyes while Blik continued. "And I'm sure whatever you imagined you _saw_ was a tail. A TRUE Alien would have a tail, and they spit out great balls of FIRE!!!" To prove his point, Blik's eyes knocked together like a pair of symbols.

Dully, Gordon said, "You mean "Great Balls of Goo"."

"Is that even a relative point?"

"Not if you want to take down the Zigax Aliens of Planet Pizzatron with the powerful twin moons of Callbird Mechanical Super Kung Fu Laser Sword!"

Both brothers took turns giving Katilda one of their weirdest stares yet before going back to ignoring her. "Blik," said Gordon all of a sudden, "A _true_, honest to GOOD Alien would have a tail! That thing you... ahem, AHEM!... _saw_... THAT was not a tail!"

Blik snidely sneered in Gordon's face. "_Now _who's being stupid and paranoid? Okay FINE, let's say _you _were right which is impossible, and I'M wrong."

Hovis let out a snicker and said to himself, "Wouldn't _that _be a surprise."

"Which is ALSO impossible. And this _human-_looking alien came from a place that was full of humans," he continued. "Well, what would a human be doing inside a meteorite?"

Gordon had no answer. Their most recent experience with Alien contact wizened his psyche on the one of the countless ways Aliens express a code of honor, trust, and open lines of communication- including a merciless tentacle brawl. He shuddered. He still had scars from _that _incident. Gordon spent an entire week washing off all the well-earned giant squid sweat from a high-flying 3-way duel of one-strike tactics.

"It came from _Outer Space_ AND in a meteorite, so therefore, it must be an Alien."

"Or mindless mutant zombie creature."

"HOW'D YOU GET IN HERE!?" Waffle's ability to be annoying was uncany. Waffle started dancing, and so did Katilda, as a matter of fact. "Um, I don't know! Splee!"

"It's not an alien!" Gordon denied. Blik couldn't believe his brother was defending something Waffle said earlier could possibly have the ability to shoot great balls of fire goo out of its' fingers! "It looks _too_ much like a human for it to be one, and who ever heard of an Alien with normal-looking human skin?"

Blik suddenly had a revelation. "Wait I know exactly what's going on! The Alien is let out a misty hallucinogen thingy that's making us _think _it looks human! Yeah, that has to be it!!" In a la Blik fashion, small greedy cat pulled out a self-sized Gas Mask and put it over his face immediately, paranoid that the "Poison" was already well merged with his thin blood systems. Having reached an unusual calm, Blik expected to see not the human body in the bed, but the disgusting form of the Alien they all stupidly decided to treat as a house-guest.

Unfortunately, the "Alien" still had the shape of a human looking boy... or was it a girl? Blik couldn't tell. This was going to harder than he thought.

Gordon had enough of his brother being his typical delusional self. "No, Mr. Blik. If he was releasing a gas from it's body, external pores have opened up. It's not an Alien."

"I remain convinced, _Gordo_! You can't say anything that would prove to me it's NOT an Alien! And bet it's hiding it's tail too! And stopping it a "HE"!"

"It doesn't have a tail! An Alien WOULD have a tail!"

Then out of nowhere, Waffle brought up a contradictory argument, "But what about that book you checked out from that library called "Aliens Don't Have Tails"?"

Gordon's eyes popped open and Blik regarded him with another sneer. "Oh he _did_, didn't he?" So the debate was unanimous then. " 'Chapter 1, Subsection 2, paragraph b: An alien can appear in ANY form'," Blik quoted. "I _KNEW it!_"

Gordon tried to intervene, but Blik casually shook his head. "And to think I even let Hovis use his pearly white gloves to bring in the naked creature."

The butler said nothing, mentally noting what an unpleasant experience _that _was. At the very least this "Alien" had been covered with one of great Edna Cramdilly's old medical jackets, rendering him not _completely _naked. He'd been spared the agonising detestable job of using his bare hands bring in such an unusual looking specimen.

Gordon let out a heavy sigh. "Okay. Fine, if what the book said is true, it's... an Alien."

"So you _were _wrong, and I was _right!_"

Gordon hated it when Blik went on like that with his swelled up pride and massive self-apraisal. He never knew when to quit. "Oh, Great Gopher Blik, It just looks so much like a normal human boy, and..."

"But it's NOT! It's totally an ALIEN! And you said that Aliens do have tails, but Aliens don't have to have Tails!"

Gordon got him covered on all the basics. He sighed.

"What do we do with him?"

"Uh, duh! We find out where his home planet is, then send him back there!" -_And get a little MOOLA on the side_,- Blik thought through with devilish glee. "We're NOT keeping a lifeless dummy in this house!"

Waffle started to whine, looking ashamedly like a puppy dog begging to have a bone. "Awww, but BLIIIK!!! _I thought we were going to keep him as a pet!!_"

"NO, and you have your THOUSANDS of Newts. Why in the world would you want a human-sized one!?"

Waffle put a paw to his mouth and thought it over. "Well... we took pretty good care of Hovis, haven't we? So we can have _two _humans to clean up after and cuddle and comb and squeeze the love out of till they pop like a balloon!"

Blik let out an equally annoyed sigh. "Waffle, _shut up_."

Having kept silent through the entire silly conversation, Katilda finally wanted to ask, "So... does this mean no Duel Sword Kungfu Action or dramatic self-sacrifce heroes to be swooned by the most heroic heroine of all beautiful heroines?"

Trying to ignore his obvious crush on her, Blik murmured, "Katilda, shut up."

At that moment, the entire house reverberated with the sound of the Doorbell. Seeing this as a convenient exit cue, Hovis stepped out and went downstairs to the main floor.

* * *

(_Scene Change_)

Hovis reached the main floor of the Victorian-styled lobby. He walked up to the front door, and opened it. Standing before him on the welcome mat was a peculiar looking young man with cerulean hair carrying a little black device with a flashing screen. He had a serious look on his face, and, just like Luther had thought before, Hovis thought he was wearing the weirdest looking he'd ever seen. No doubt, he was some heavy go-getter for those utterly hapless New Age kids' action shows they were shoving onto the television nowadays. But the look in his onyx eyes behind the thick glasses said otherwise- he had the air of someone who had a professional job that he took serious dedication to, even though he looked no older than 20.

"Yes....?" Hovis began with a suspicious tone, still having his hand on the door handle- On the offhand that this unwelcome stranger's appearance was merely a ruse for a petty sales pitch, which was the only possible explanation to put such a young man like this under. "And what is your business here?"

The young man cleared his throat and decided to speak. "I ran into a slip with the _last _house on this block that I visited. I'll eliminate the need to be pointlessly vague and introduce myself. My name is **Xegrot Bryandel**."

And here was when Hovis began thinking that whomever he was talking to was insane.

"If you can't pronounce just remember. I spell my name as X-e-g-r-o-t. The accent for this are the "Zhe" and "Grot" sound, but the beginning letter is X."

Hovis still had no idea what was going on, or _time _for that matter; he needed to get back on the cleaning detail, not continue this. Again, he asked, "...Okay then. And what _exactly _is your business here?"

"Aliens. I'm looking for Aliens. An Earthquake ran through here yesterday as the result of a gigantic impact on the ground, which leads me to assume that there is an Alien."

Hovis remained silent when he sensed something was slightly amiss with this picture. This stranger with the silly name like an E-Author out of a site of poorly written fanfiction kept going, the sun hitting the glint of his glasses.

"I... happened to notice that 5 meters off west of this dormitory was a truck-sized crater, and the remains of a meteorite," he finished, looking straight at him.

Impressed with this young man's somewhat blunt and genuine understanding of manners and etiquette when going to the point, Hovis figured out what the purpose of this young man was. "So then, I take it you must be a representative of some form of Extraterrestrial Investigative Unit." Despite his tall, languid appearance, Hovis secretly had a subscription to _U. NO! Weekly_. One which Mr. Blik knew nothing or cared about, considering that he was only a firm believer in Aliens as a _gimmick_, like last Halloween. But this had to be a joke. It couldn't be a someone like this young man: how could the president employ a youth to run a specialized alien tracking team like "Area 51"?

But Xegrot suddenly had a look of hesitation before answering with a hint of odd nervousness coating a portion of his voice. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure. That's the ticket. Anyways, if you had seen any, it wouldn't be wise for you to touch it in any way. Especially with bare hands. You haven't seen any Aliens around here, is what you're trying to tell me?" As he was asking this question, he shoved that odd looking black device with the flashing screen back into his jacket pocket.

_Hmm? That was odd. Why would he answer like that? _The fear of cheap novelty items, like the hundreds already around the home (Due credit to Waffle) darted back into the English Butler's head, striking up the shield of suspicion once more. Then immediately he was consumed by anger at this child's earlier tone of weird calmness and superiority. _How dare this brat talk down to me?_ _What in heaven's name is his problem? _If not for the manners and strict tolerance for rules and regulations, Hovis would've just slammed the door. His hand almost fumbled off the door handle.

"Unfortnately, _no_. Shameful business and all that, but we haven't seen any Aliens around here. But could you give me a detailed description?" On habit, Hovis revealed a writing pad from his vest pocket and a small pencil. It was always important to be prepared for _anything_.

Now it was Xegrot's turn to be suspicious. But he gave him the following description anyway, unsure if it was wise to simply leave without giving a decent profiling of the subject of his pursuit. "It's an alien, 4 Ft tall, and it looks very much like a human. It has Forest-Green mop hair and understands objects and living subjects through a sensory membrane that's a biological portion of its' skin attached to the "hands"."

Now Hovis was unsure, as he finished the heavily realistic profiling, that he should feel safe talking to this supposed Extraterrestrial Investigator, with a razor glint in his deep onyx eyes. The second thing to happen was expertly suppressed in the darkening depths of the 43-year-old's mind, thoughts that for some reason, he knew he wasn't supposed to have: something was wrong with this picture. More than that, what was _he _doing? Why was _he_, cold, bitter and usually adroit James Hovis concealing an obvious truth from this young man, who despite his ridiculous appearances, may or may not have had anything to do with hunting aliens? And why'd he say _no_? Why was he trembling as he stared at Xegrot? What was _wrong _with him?

It was too much of a painful headache: while this thought ran through his head, remembered all too clearly that he was standing not in a closed space, not in a kitchen, not in a pile of faeces, but inside the doorway to the craziest house of the world, right in front of the strangest looking figure that looked more Alien than the limp noodle doll making cosy literally over his stunningly bald head. The chilling realization ran through his body like a powerful bolt. And anyway, there was this man, Xegrot.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Ah...!"

"You have a bizarre look on your face which suggests to me that you're feeling pale. Maybe you're spending a great deal of time carrying somebody else's burden, but not taking enough time to remove your own."

"... what?"

"I'm sorry. It was none of my business to say anything."

Hovis stood there for a moment, paralyzed with an uncomfortable feeling- something he'd never honestly felt. "Hmm... this is awkward."

"Well, if you see the Alien, make sure you have the sense to _not physically make _contact with it in any way. It will absorb any random traces of DNA and immediately adapt to consuming more than it's share of knowledge. And nobody wants to know what'd happen after that," he finished. Then he bowed respectfully and turned to walk down the steps. He stopped halfway on the walkway, then turned his head around to give Hovis a bizzare look of twisted satisfaction, like _he _knew something Hovis didn't... or really, _did he_?

"HEY! CLOSE THAT DOOR- WHO ARE YOU!?"

"Oh, uh, nobody, really. Just nobody. Mark me, you'd better stay away from him."

It didn't really matter. Blik slammed the door shut while the stranger went on his way and down the street. Blik continued staring through the side window looking infuriated- more with everybody and everything else minus himself. On a different note, he turned to his freaked-out looking Servant and muttered, "Those crazy salespeople are always trying get in my WALLET! Keep THEM OUT!"

* * *

(_Scene Change_)

Xegrot continued walking down the street, _smiling _big, bigger than the glasses on his face. Two kids flew past on bicycles like he wasn't even there. And before you'd even blinked, he vanished into the thin air.

(_Scene Change_)

"So... uh, what do we name it?" Waffle asked.

Gordon was standing at the top of a ladder, claiming the desired prize of frozen Bacon Bits out of freezer/cabinet. "Huh? Name what laddie?"

"The Alien! It's got to have a name! We're keeping it! Ooh, it's gonna be like having a pet! We should get 'im a Flea Collar!" Waffle excitedly envisioned.

Gordon had no plans on doing something like that. Upstairs in one of the guest rooms was an Alien that certainly didn't look anything like the ones he saw out of those "colorful" phoney-boo-looney magazine articles out of _The Enquirer_, or even _Wikipedia_. Opposed to Blik's airheaded nature of self-appraisal for even the most trivial idiocy he committed in the name of money, Gordon berated himself in letting his eyes buy into such vague and hapless sources of info: he would've got by a lot better with a _Tabloid _news reporter. And California, (Though mostly cities like Bakersfield and Sacramento) had seen its' share of those. "I don't know." Gordon wasn't good with throwing formality into a situation, especially one that didn't call for it as strongly. He couldn't think about it properly; and times like this called for one thing: Food. LOTS and LOTS of food. "Lemme cook something up and we'll talk about this later, alright?"

Waffle must have interpreted Later for "now" and then. "Hey Gordon...?" he asked innocently.

Mouth stuffed to the full with Cat snacks from the second bag he claimed on the way down, the brooding proud warrior of the Highland McQuid Clan mumbled out between Fishchum and creamy nougat: "Mm-mwa e et?"

"You think it's normal for an Alien to have no pupils in its' eyes?"

Gordon didn't want to know if that was a question that needed answering. "Mm-mwell-mm uh... not really. I don't know!" It was supposed to be normal around the way they saw it; Gordon didn't know why Waffle asked- unless it was just random and out of sheer stupidity. "Great Gopher how would I know?" he swallowed down the last bits of big food chomps in his mouth. "Don't all aliens usually have bulging eyes without pupils?" What was the big deal with that question, Gordon would never know. He'd seen T.V. shows where a character would have no pupils as a signification of being possessed, or when inducing a transformation into something of unnaturally exaggerated physical features. But _that _sort of thing never happened in Bakersfield. Was their "Alien" they were secretly housing a newly added exception to the rule?

"Well," Waffle started. "Remember that giant goo-spitting Squid guy who you fought despite your obvious detracting height difference to get a wish to restoring Mr. Blik's crooked little tail and then later when you went to that same Goo-spitting Squid Guy's home-world and helped him reclaim his honor and such by defeating that rotten-poo 3 headed mean-face bob in what seemed one minute whereas your body structure couldn't normally handle puncturing through the three heads of an entirely powerful creature?"

Gordon remembered. "Hey yeah... good point and-!"

"And what about the Spandango Fungulation thingy game that Mr. Blik cheated at leading us to saving the universe from the terrifying threat of a small diminutive moon?"

Gordon shrugged. "That _is _true, and I want to say-!"

"Or what about-?"

"Okay, okay! I get it!" Gordon didn't need enough proof. He sighed. "Great _Gopher_... look I'm just saying that maybe if it was a pupil-less Alien, it would've spoken and made contact with us by now. Blik told us not to do anything with it, and that we should try and find out where it came _from_, but, that doesn't make any _sense_. We have absolutely NO idea what's what!"

"Isn't "What's What" a contradiction?" Waffle asked.

Gordon shook his head. "No! You're missing the point lad! And you _mean _"What" is a _contraction_, not a _contradiction_. Just listen all right? That Alien is lying up there in the guest room bed like a propped up Broken Doll. Ever since Hovis brought it in here with the proper sanitary measures, it's done NOTHING. It's in a stoic state of sheer... _nothingness_. There's no way to tell if it's got a glimmer in its' eyes, because with pupils you automatically get a SIGN whether or not it's breathing. But you don't. You can't even hear it breathing. Like it's _not alive_."

The words "Not alive" had a disturbing effect on Waffle Cramdilly, who in one "episode" had once done the impossible by using laser light shows to obliterate a whole army of the living dead, attacking their house due to some uh... _thing _Waffle forgot he'd did using one of Gordon's Ancient Scottish Magicky Books. On that note, paranoid fantasies darted into the grey cat's head, the kind that made him whimper. "Zombies...?"

Gordon almost thought the same thing- the problem was that they (Gordon, Blik, Waffle, Katilda, and even Hovis on an occasion) fought _zombies_, and they _fought _aliens. But there was _nothing _in the books about _zombie aliens. _And Zombies only rose and attacked the living if their grave sites were disturbed; or in the case of _28 Days Later_, they had their essence flushed upon the living, who were driven _to _attack themselves. Then Gordon shook his head: what made him think _that _was important in any way? Gordon felt that their housed Alien fell into neither category. "No... I don't think that could be it. Not at all."

Waffle was confused, and coming close to being frightened. So much so that Waffle grabbed his brother by the sides and shook him frantically. Gordon could swear that past the grey, Waffle looked positively pale. "I don't get it. I just don't _get it!_ How he be _not _alive!?"

That was where the entire conversation ran into a wall. Gordon and Waffle spent a few dangerously tense minutes staring at each other silently.

"Great _Gopher_..."

* * *

(_Scene Change_)

_"If you see an alien, make sure you have the sense to not physically make contact with it in any way. It will absorb any random traces of DNA and immediately adapt to consuming more than it's share of knowledge."_

...

_"You have a bizarre look on your face which suggests to me that you're feeling pale. Maybe you're spending a great deal of time carrying somebody else's burden, but not enough time trying to remove your own._

_..._

_"... nobody wants to know what'd happen." _

This was a surprise- James' eyes stayed open. The sky dived into a dull kind of yellow, meaning it was sunset. A cold wind blew through and the first signs of the night stars were beginning to appear. James' missed all of this caught in his short conversation with the stranger that came earlier that morning. His body was overcome with familiar but suddenly now unpleasant sensations: ice clung to his bones and his bald head was experiencing frostbite. Maybe there was more to it than that; Hovis found it all bothersome and just plain annoying. Equally annoying was the look that "Xegrot" character gave him; such _cold_, lifeless eyes, like a Russian Babushka*. And what in world was with the things he said? He acted like he knew so much more than Hovis assumed he let on. And it was clear that he had such arrogance, he regarded Hovis like nothing more than some child- even accurately guessing he had to deal with the insane messes created by his "masters"; just what kind of person was this "Xegrot" anyway? How did he _know_? How dare he just see through him like that? Was there really some unnatural force behind those words? Who the hell WAS he?

_"Mark me, you'd better stay away from him."_

Hovis wondered who he meant by that. But this thought was interrupted, and his world literally flipped upside down by an edgy, impatient Mr. Blik, who bellowed a request for a root beer float. The other half of his rant ended with two things, that Katilda would be spending the night over with the Cramdillies, and that starting now, Hovis would be officially designating him to an obviously demoting duty: cleaning after the spills of their latest inmate, their friendly neighbourhood Alien. Lovely. He honestly thought this demanding job couldn't possibly get any worse.

So, taking in a deep breath and straightening his stance, Hovis walled off those unpleasant and ridiculous afterthoughts, the "Alien" issue and God-complex minds like Xegrot, and carried on with his actually meaningful and _important _duties.

* * *

(_Scene Change_)

"Of ALL the most humiliating...!"

Before shutting it out completely the staggeringly humiliating set of the night's events left a mark or two on Hovis, though it was really on his clothes soaked to the bone with the flavourless concoction of seltzer and root beer. He did not favour making any effort to a recollection of dinner and chose not to do so. And since that hell, along with the messy sight of Waffle's horribly-shaped teeth gouging another bottle of root beer down his throat, were behind him, it was time to get on with the less important things. _And _compared with what he dealt with on a regular basis, Hovis decided that dealing with this "Alien" should've been a walk in the park.

The light was on in the room, and window on the outside showed the night sky. The Alien remained cold and numb on the guest bed. Just as they had brought him inside, the stranger had absolutely no sign of life... but even so, he still had some kind of warm pulse beating within! How was that even possible?

"Ugh." Now that he was alone with the mannequin it felt a lot like not really having anybody there with him at all. The silver tray with the cleaning essentials sat off on the side. This "Alien" didn't serve to distract the cats long enough but certainly provided enough trouble for the heavily worn Butler, who resented its' presence enough as stood.

"You're just another chore on my to-do list, then? Well it doesn't really matter to me. In another day this will all go back to normal, and you will end up being the burden of somebody else who'd actually care to hear whatever nonsense as such you've got to say." It was strange- why was he suddenly feeling upset? "If you really are alive, that is. You're a useless heap of nothing."

The Alien really did look a lot like a human. But it didn't respond; Hovis should've known better: did he really expect one? Why did he suddenly let himself go right in front of a figure that was probably dead if nothing else? He may as well feel mocked; that _thing_, its' blank, mocking stare fell lazily on the 43-year-old despite having no life in them. Hovis couldn't take it anymore and grabbed the little bastard's blue sleeves with both arms.

"Can you even _hear_ me? I said you are truly a worthless pile of nothing! You are a waste of space!" he rose to a scream, shaking up the human/alien in frustrated groans. "Aagh! WHY am I even wasting my time when you can't even hear me properly!?"

Hovis shook up the body with such fierceness he hadn't become aware of until he came face to face with the blank, lifeless eyes of the alien. And he remembered Mr. Bryandel's words.

_("If you see an alien, make sure you have the sense to not physically make contact with it in any way. It will absorb any random traces of DNA and immediately adapt to consuming more than it's share of knowledge.")_

"_Why am I reduced to this mediocrity?_ _Why?_"

He didn't vocally acknowledge out loud. Nor did he do so in the fear that his Masters would've known. For the first time ever, all that what Mr. Bryandel told him sounded like to Hovis nothing but grade-A piled bullshit. And he was apathetic enough to not care that this was the first strong thought he'd ever had go completely against his carefully built up rules for living and understanding other people; but he just couldn't care anymore! He wanted to admit how badly he was tired of being just a servant, or being partially mutilated or humiliated, and being forced to deal with nonsensical situations that had no set solution ruled by logic, and not having anybody or anything to vent out his suppressed rage upon. He was old and TIRED of it. This made him forget anything that Xegrot told him earlier; his hands balled into fists and fell upon the unprotected naked hands of the human alien. scar-stained, dirty-fingernailed hands met the cold weak ones.

"!?"

Then out of nowhere, Hovis jumped up and found himself flown back by an overwhelming amber light.

"_GOOD HEAVENS!!!_"

It happened too fast for him to take in at once, but around his wrist was an electrical stream that seeped into the skin of the bony Alien in the bed. A sensation that went beyond just _tingling_ to a spine-spliting jolt of pure painful reflex burned his hands and made his teeth chatter. At the same time, a visible stream of an electrical light jumped from the clammy skin of the hybrid, catching Hovis by surprise and spreading horror into his eyes all at the same time.

Finally after what seemed like a only a minute of flashing pain, the Butler had been thrown back with such force that he hit the wall with terrible impact, but not as heavy as it would have to crack or heavily maim any part of his body. Worse, he knew he hit an object after hearing a ear-spliting _crack_. Once his body hit the floor with a _smack!_ heavy stacks of pages in hard covers ended up falling right on top of his bald head. "Oh! Ow! Ouch! ooh! Ooch! Ow!"

His vision went almost dark and Hovis for the first time felt unwelcome panic setting in. He was afraid of what would happen if he tried getting up. Would he honestly bother? Was there really any point? He admitted to himself that he saw no reason to withstand the sheer ridicule of the house any longer. And despite the trembling shock he barely withstood (his aging hands continued to shake longer than he wished), James Hovis decided that enough was enough and he didn't want get back up at all. He wasn't trying to mask the blatantly selfish feeling anymore; he felt absolutely miserable.

Up until heard an unfamiliar voice. One that to his shock, had an itchingly familiar accent.

"You know something, you look like a whiny, emotional, and unequivocally unstable little bitch down there."

_What!? Who said that!? _

Hovis sat up and brushed off the clumps of Books and book pages to send wild gazes around the entire room. He originally thought it was one of his masters, but that was impossible: Mr. Blik spoke with a bronx-voice, Waffle was exactly as his name implied, and Gordon practiced his Scottish brand day and night to make it a pure habit. And none of the three were in the room. That meant... he gasped. He stared in the direction of the guest bed.

The alien/human hybrid had pupils in its' eyes. Actual _normal_ sized ones. And it, the thing that Hovis and the Cats pulled out of that eyesore of a meteorite, was staring back at the English butler for the very first time like a baby dog tracking its' first visual sight of its' mother. He thought he was going crazy, but Hovis thought he'd seen those eyes have newly born fascination glimmering in them. The creepier thing to follow was when the hybrid exposed a fine set of slightly rotten-looking teeth (Hovis couldn't have imagined teeth that looked less worse than those of the Chumpy Chump brothers) in a freakishly friendly grimace, one that twisted his face up like a rope chain, one that you'd be unable to tell whether or not it hid a secret from a bullseye point of view. This was how Hovis was thinking right now, too: he couldn't tell if he was staring at a disgusting real dream or a grandly deceiving nightmare.

Finally, despite what anybody else said over the course of the whole day, the hybrid looked positively human.

**- Pause - **

**-Save and ****Quit****?-

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**Hope you like the new gimmick. **

**NC: Stalker**

**A/N: That's all I can do for this weekend. I've got bigger fish to fry. And if I'm positively blessed, I'm going to remain alive to see that the next chapter be finished by the next weekend. But now... College Assignments! (DUN DUN DUN! DUN DUN DUN DUN.... DUUUUUN!!) **

**This isn't important to ask. Aw screw it, I'm just going to ask anyway. How did I fare with this chapter? Did I do good? Was I descriptive? I guess some of these questions I can only answer for myself. And maybe one day, If i'm really lucky, some expert author will read this and e-mail me to criticise... and nothing else. **

**So... the character with forest green hair has been Re-RE-introduced, and this time, I think I nailed his character down with that phrase about "Whiny Bitch" in the chapter. LOL **

**Look forward to startling developments in future chapters... and unpleasant situations that for some reason or another, lead to disturbing events and over-the-top character break-downs. Farewell. And *Babshuka is a russian doll. **


	5. Stalker

**A/N: Oh you can imagine the trouble I went through trying to figure out the proper circumstances the Characters I needed for RE had to go through in for just them to be in the rest of the story.**

**But an author's choice is usually the best and most wisest of choices to be made, which fits the tastes and interests of the Reader into an intricately woven piece of a brilliant storyline that shines on through the stars and forever. More importantly it helps the Reader identify a personal trait that they see in the characters that they have yet to realize are a part within themselves they need to develop sequentially. And it's that gift that blossoms into something that praises the name of the Lord and brings closure into your own life, due to the various influences and right choices you make which affect the rest of your life in a good way and leave behind only past reminders of your humility in service to other people. You could say it was an immense battle where you must draw your sword and raise the cross of might to take a stand and fight against the overwhelming relentless force that while drawing you in compels you to have an even stronger desire to destroy it all together. **

**Yeah...**

**And this chapter is nothing like that. Prepare to have your eyes melted right out of your eye sockets. Go figure.**

-

**Loading File: Stalker**

**File Loaded**

_(Two weeks later)_

Bloo tossed a hundred imaginary friends a mischievous grin, then threw a pigskin into the air. "GO LONG!!'

A perfect sunny day made for the perfect time of grounded outside activity. But the same couldn't be said for all intricately trimmed grassy knolls involved, particularly the one outside and all around Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends, who's right side had more kicked open potholes than a cake of Swiss cheese. A messy game of football in progress, the denizens of Foster's were all charged up into a storm of electrified frenzy. One extremely lanky imaginary friend made magnificent strides all across the entire grass knoll, waving his elastic arm out like a snake, the brightest smile you could imagine. "I got it! I got it!" he screamed. But he didn't really get it, since one of his basketball sized sneakers tripped on a loose stone, concealed as neatly as a snake. Out of view an obtuse, green imaginary with a thick bush of a moustache yelled in a thick Indonesian accent, "No the ball is to be falling in my hands!"

The ball landed to neither and Eduardo ended up getting it. The gentle-natured purple beast imaginary looked more shocked then pleased. "WOAAH!! IT'S UN SCARY PIGSKIN!" By accident, a frenzied Eduardo tossed the ball right into the air where God had bade it obey the worldly principle of gravity. Down on Earth, the slippery Bloorfrfegard Q. Kazoo bellowed, "Eduardo, for the HUNDREDTH time, it's _just a football! _It won't eat you any more than I could eat a whole of plate of Frankie's disgusting "It"!" The ball landed at the wacky-looking feet of a real eyesore. It, or should I say, _she_ squawked, "COCO!" before kicking up the ball and... eating it.

"AWW!" went up a massive cry from a dozen of the denizens of the imaginary friends of Fosters, and especially Bloppy Pants, a stout and frail sounding imaginary grey cat, that went: "Aw man! That's the 32nd ball we've lost this week!"

And another one, a needle high green imaginary simply noted, "I'll take advantage of this chance and make me a sandwich!" Sure enough, off Jackie Khones went, whereas a frazzled Wilt climbed back on his feet, despite having only one usable arm. He was disappointed at the opportunity he missed. "Sorry everyone! My bad! I shouldn't have tripped."

Mac rolled his eyes and consoled Wilt. "Wilt, you didn't _do _anything. We can just get a new ball from the basement." Mac had been down in the basement plenty of times with Charise "Goo" Gaga. Foster's had a treasure trove of ancient junk that had not seen the light of day in years.

"I'll get it!" cried Bloo, leaping at the chance for the task. "But make sure Missy Prissy-crazy-legs-pants doesn't eat up the next one!"

"COCOCOCOCOCOCOCOCOCOCO!!!"

Bloo dashed off while Fluffer-Nutter sneaked behind a shivering Ed and "Booed" him off with a flapping tongue. On cue the kind-hearted orge imaginary dashed off, petrified, but not in the knees.

(_Scene Change_)

"Football, football, football, _football_- Where is that thing!?" The azure imaginary burst through the wide double doors to the ornate-fashioned foyer. The natural instinct was to take a look in the basement. Bloo tossed open the door and descended. Once he reached the bottom of the steps and flipped on the light switch, the apparent emptiness of the base room full of Foster's various memoria mixed with the smell of ancient musky ink and gray dust that permeated the air became acknowledged. "Football! Where's a football?"

The answer was a musty looking, bent cardboard box that that the words, "Toys and other Necessities" painted crudely on it. Bloo popped it open and looked inside. Sure enough, amongst the gigantic pile of underused sports equipment to be seen in the box was a rubber oval pigskin sack. "Booyah!" came the wacky imaginary's cry of success. "Cool!"

Having procured the item he sought, Bloo dashed out of the basement with prize in hand, to get back outside and prolong the game even further till the one and only perfect imaginary friend would come out on top with what Bloo deemed to be the highest, most coolest record win in history. The only problem was that when he opened the door to leave, he hadn't been the slightest bit aware that yet again, another of Madame Foster's busts sat precariously placed by the basement Door, by the stairs. So no surprise that Bloo in his delirium knocked against it, accidentally creating an imbalance.

_SMASH!_

"Uh-oh."

Overhead came a sound unpleasant to only Bloo, one he hated dealing with on a daily basis. Reaching his ears immediately were the all-too-familiar hops of a certain imaginary. _Uh-oh_, Bloo thought. Right on cue, a 90-foot tall rabbit in gentleman's attire and narrow top hat, the Head of Business Affairs, had appeared, making a mad dash down the stairs; so Bloo sighed and prepared to make a defensive speech against Mr. Stuffy-rules-and-Nonsense about his all-important winning kick, ignoring the fact that he had team-mates, and that there was absolutely no reason Mr. Herriman should punish him due to breaking an easily replaceable stone ornament. (This argument ignored the fact that Bloo's careless and reckless movements had cost the house $200 worth of their replacement busts) Bloo was perfectly ready for another _long, boring, complex_ speech of words that were 300 syllables TOO long for him to understand, spewed out in that silly sounding thick British accent...

... but to his surprise, the strict and unbreakable no-nonsense imaginary friend didn't so much as even glance in his direction, or of the shattered remains of yet another of Foster's accident-prone liabilities. Bloo was wondering what the heck would occupy Mr. Herriman's attention so much that he didn't even try to chide him at all. Or why Mr. Herriman stood at his locked office Door, the Keys fumbling in his pearly white gloved hands... which Bloo noticed seemed to be _not _so pearly at a glance, no, that they were drenched in sweat.

_Huh? What happened to him? He looked like just ate a nightmare sandwich. _Bloo stood in silence as he watched; his eyes went wider with his increasing surprise. He'd never seen his archenemy looking like _this_.

"... Mr. Herriman?"

Struggling with opening the door, the anal imaginary's uncovered eye jumped to twice it's size and he screamed. He started yelling out an incomprehensible babble that Bloo couldn't register in his ears. Either way, Bloo fell on his back in shock, so surprised by Mr. Herriman's thickly accented garble that he was more terrified of Mr. Herriman than him telling Bloo to follow another of his insane rules. "YIKES! Woah! What are you talking about?!"

Instead of answering him, Mr. Herriman's paranoid shock changed immediately to fiery anger as he straightened himself out, and made dignified hop into his office without saying a word.

Bloo could hardly believe what happened; he knew if he so much as touched Mr. Herriman, the chances he'd get punished were severe. He could hardly believe his luck; all those years of being heavily berated and being "reprimended" and being YELLED at for poor posture, decision making, eating habits, and all of his perfect schemes, (_Really when have I been in any trouble?_ Bloo thought in his delusion) and as he had seen firsthand, the ridiculous-looking boss of Foster's wasn't the slightest bit interested at all.

But what came on the tip of Blooregard Q. Kazoo's tongue was, "What the heck just happened? What did I do?"

-

(_Scene Change_)

"Where's Bloo?" Mac began to ask. It'd been only a few mere minutes and surprisingly Bloo was taking a relatively long time to go fetch one. It didn't surprise Mac. "He should've found one football by now."

"Maybe he's out getting a sandwich", the diminutive Jackie Khones said. Fluffer Nutter rolled her eyes and said, "But you were just _in the kitchen_. Wouldn't you have seen Bloo in there when you were making _your sandwich_?"

Casually Fluffer-Nutter pointed out Jackie's own culinary "genius" that was the "Ham-e-lot", which he carried away from the kitchen. Jackie stared at the baby of his pure sandwich ingenuity and forgot Fluffer-Nutter asked. "Yeah, so?"

"Ugh." She stopped before going any deeper. She harboured feelings, but they weren't deep enough.

"Maybe Senor Bloo is being held up by Senor Herriman."

"Why would he be held up by Mr. Herriman?" Mac asked Eduardo doubtfully. "He didn't do anything... yet. Oh, hey Frankie!"

Right on cue, a tall young woman of 22 years stepped out in her lime green sweater, colorful shirt, and short violet skirt. She carried a sprinkling canteen of water in one hand and a garden shovel in the other. She regarded Mac cheerfully. "Hey guys, what's going on?"

"We were playing a game of football," Wilt answered.

"But Coco ate the ball..." Fluffer Nutter trailed off despondently, before adding, "...again."

Frankie let out a hearty laugh. "Really? Coco you need to stop eating the ball, doesn't that interrupt your game?"

"Cocococococo!"

"Well you're not going to get any games finished that way. Now, I've got to take care of this, so make sure you stay out of the way." With that, Frankie kneeled down in front of a potted rhododendron. "Only 289 to go..."

At that moment, Bloo rushed on the scene with his intended target of sporting. Seeing Frankie and Mac huddled together with Wilt, and Coco coming over, it gave him a few more calamitous ideas. Fluffer Nutter let out a cry of joy as she and all the other imaginary friends saw Bloo with the ball. But Bloo was hardly trying to carry it at all. In fact, by the time he came over and Mac saw his friend clearly in open daylight, Bloo looked like he'd seen some kind of ghost.

"Mac!"

"Hey Bloo! All right, you got the ball!" Mac snatched, but once the ball was free of captivity, whatever contained sphere of horror bursting forth inside Bloo came out in the blobby arms shooting up into the air.

"FORGET the Ball! Something freaky and totally weird just happened!!" Then for dramatic effect, Bloo looked like he was going to keel over. "It was the _most creepiest thing I've ever seen!_"

Mac had no idea what Bloo was yelling about. "Uh, Bloo? You all right?"

"I'm TELLING you Mac! It's the most insane thing to ever HAPPEN!"

"What? What is it?"

Bloo waited, trying to find the right words to use. He honestly wanted to rely this shocking and terific news he discovered to Mac, but his mind, like usual, had ended up going everywhere else. "I need Grape Juice!"

"BLOO!"

At this point Coco and Ed came over, curious as to the delay of the game. Ed ceased any previous fears of a flying pigskin. All Coco wanted was to grab the ball. "Cocococococcoo!!!"

"For-GET the BALL!" Bloo yelled, hurting Coco's feelings on the bat. How hard was it to eat a freaking ball? "This is important!" His loud outburst took Eduardo by surprise, and the poor, startled imaginary blurted out cautiously, "Que? Que es un problemo?"

"We're not sure..." said Wilt, still completely unaware of the situation. "He's babbling too fast."

"Bloo, _what _are you trying to say?" Mac asked.

Bloo took a big gasp, then a bigger one, with all four excluding Francis "Frankie" Foster trapped in some panel of hypnotizing anticipation- until Bloo let out all the breath he had and cried, "I need some Juic-"

"BLOOO!" Bloo's tendency to have a one-track mind- _er_, stomach -was just a little bit annoying.

"Okay, _okay!_ Check this out! I saw Mr. H hopping down the stairs and he looked totally freaked out!"

Now even Frankie was interested. And at the same time she thought about her morning, all that had been included concerning just waking up to yet another list of chores that stretched from end of the hallway to the other, which was yet another weight she was going to carry on her back like a boulder. Mac, still meticulously picking out the parts of Bloo's latest lie- that was what he hoped- asked again.

"Bloo what did you do _this _time?" asked Mac, putting both arms on his sides and glaring at his imaginary friend. Mac assumed Bloo was already at the start of another long lie.

"I didn't do anything!" he claimed. "He just looked like he got run over by a truck, and he looked at me and started sputtering out some kind of weird alien-!" He gasped, and his next response was less than expected. "_Alien Language. _He's an ALIEN! HE'S GOT TO BE AN-!!!"

"Alien!?" Wilt cried. "I'm sorry, but that doesn't sound right!"

"Senior Herriman is from _unother_ planet?!" cried Eduardo in panic. He tore off in a fright. Coco as usual, remained unaffected. Wilt and Mac were the only persons besides Frankie that had confused looks on their faces. The gears were working in Bloo's head as he came up with another _scheme to end all scheme's. _Now he was cooking with magic, as they say.

Bloo's face lit up like a bulb with delight as he relayed his encounter with Mr. Herriman earlier; the frenzied hop down the stairs as Bloo stepped out of the door to the basement; the garbled english; the imaginary rabbit's "shakedown" on the door--to his own office; and finally, when the head of business had gone AWOL when he overlooked another of Bloo's calamities. For dramatization, the blob kept dancing around in a circle and waving his blobby arms into the air, which for the most part, went nowhere and left Mac and his friends partially confused. But on cue, another calamity resulted when Bloo danced dangerously close to a hoe Frankie placed on the side.

Frankie had just finished potting another red leaf, relieved to partially check off her mental list. She was too busy to lend an ear to everything Bloo said (Well, half the time, Bloo's stories had more crap involved than an inmate's cell's toliet). Ignoring when Bloo finished, the next chore on her mental list was the Unicorn stables, enough said. For some reason, her geared to how much she was irritated. Irate? No. _Irritated_. Irritated at having so many chores but not getting a decent extended hand of help, a break or even 5 minutes to herself. Forget whatever Bloo was yakking, seemed "upset" over, she has to worry about 284 plants, and the unicorn stables, and everything else. She sighed; she ought to have been used to this by now. The thoughts turned to anger, but this was just normal. If normal had been waking up to another list of chores that stretched from one end of the house to the other. This chore and the unicorn stables pinched the top of the list. And made her winch sadly. Ordinary girls had it easy cleaning up a garage; Frankie begruded their luck. Why couldn't _she_ have a cosier job like that?

_Because of a certain fatheaded stingy stick in the mud_, she finished her thinking. _Ah. Forget it. _She shoved away that dark thinking. It was pointless. _I can handle the rest of this later_, she decided. _Actually if I get started now, I can finish up the Unicorn stables earlier- _

_CRASH!_

Frankie turned around to see that the hoe she placed next to her gardening tools fell down. More importantly than that, the wooden pole of the hoe was broken in half. Closer inspection wasn't needed. In the messy pile was a dazed blobbish imaginary friend with a tongue sticking out and eyes going through critical orbits. "BLOOO!!" went Frankie's trademark yell. Eduardo cringed in fear, not happy to see Frankie in this state.

Out of habit, Bloo shot a dirty glare at Frankie to cast all the guilt off himself. "What were all those tools doing in my way? Fraaaaaankiiiiiiiiiie, I'm trying to tell the others about something cool!"

She knew there wasn't any point bothering to ask what he meant. Once Bloo was back on his feet he didn't seem to notice the damage wrought. Wile volunteered to go inside for extra tools, but Frankie told him not to go for it. Shocked, Wilt continued to watch Frankie act eerily calm about another casualty on Bloo's part.

"No, Wilt. What with "Harry's" Pimp and scrimp Policy, I can't even touch the extras unless I can afford to _clean _all of those too," Frankie said flatly. "Mr. H is trying to save money."

"Mr. _H _is CRAZY!!!" Bloo snapped, jumping up to Frankie's weight length. She pushed him back and he folded his arms, a little enraged. "He didn't PUNISH me even once!! I bet he's planning something for the last food fight I started!"

"You WHAT!?" Mac cried, less than surprised to hear. Bloo just has to play the lines. "That's the fifth one this week. You WANT to get in trouble?"

And on cue, "Please, when have _I _ever gotten in trouble?" Bloo non-pulsedly brushed them off. He didn't see the irony in what he said. Mac shook his head.

"But Senor Bloo, es that not a good thing? If Senor Herriman punish, than you'd... mes dinner!" The idea of hunger, like the evanescent force of death, made his fur stand on end. "Aren't you afraid?" Not as important, but Bloo's pranks just create more havoc than Eduardo could've handed. Ed had a less stressful time catching a Frisbee than catching up with Bloo and Wilt and everybody else.

Bloo denied any ridiculous claims and called out Ed for being a major wussie. Fear was for natural losers and crybaby wimps; Ed fit the description nicely. But Bloo didn't say this out loud. Not surprised at Bloo's reaction, Mac diverted the subject in another direction while more imaginary friends came wandering onto the scene wondering what on earth happened to their game.

"Frankie, can't you just buy another one?" he asked.

"Hey! That does sound like a good idea!" Wilt agreed.

They had a strong argument going there; Frankie turned over gears in the back of her head. There was the broken pole and only 39 more chores left on her list; it'd be hard to not go crazy. The broken hoe was going to be a problem. And if nothing was done, of course Herriman would jump on the chance to chastise her, and she _didn't _want that on her conscience. She could run down to the hardware store just down the street. It was a five minute drive; and since most new hoes cost 20 dollars it was a pretty convenient opportunity she'd knock herself on the head for wasting. The bonus? It'd keep Herriman out of her hair and not piss him off. She turned to Mac and asked, "Hey Mac. You want to run to the hardware store with me? I need the help anyway."

Seemed like right on cue half of the Imaginaries involved, including Jackie Khones, leapt to the chance of getting on the Foster's Bus. Bloo tried hollering above all of them not to join Frankie, but to gain that crowd-wide attention he was losing quickly. Anything so his pseudo-logic theories could be heard above them all. Frankie managed to make the clamour die down at once, and Mac volunteered to go to the hardware store anyway. Bloo stole away Wilt, Ed, and Coco for briefing on nondescript "white" plans concerning what to do about the said "alien". Hooves, sneakers and pats from bare feet echoed through as they ran into the house.

Mac hung around the bus till Frankie arrived with the keys. Till that moment, he realized that maybe he had another chance for a date with an older woman. It wasn't the strongest feeling yet, due to the obvious age difference, but he really did crush on Frankie as much as Ed had it bad for potatoes. This thought was disrupted as Frankie arrived back in the garage with the bus keys. In 5 minutes both caretaker and 8-year-old were on their way. Mac felt a little less happy to leave under such circumstances. Strange to acknowledge, but he knew that his logic and reasoning were needed more around the house with Bloo already a foot into a working scheme. For all he knew... eh, no real harm in it anyway, he realized.

_Besides_, he was thinking. _Maybe I could get closer with Frankie this way. And what's harm can taking a bus ride cause me, right? _

---

(_Scene Change; On the Road_)

Frankie had one hand on the wheel and the other juggling $22.83 in her jacket pocket. It kept cha-chining every 2 seconds. Meanwhile Mac sat on the opposite staring at the passing scenery of the town.

Frankie put a foot to the break at the next light, displaying excellent ability to handle the bus. But it didn't come naturally - that talent itself had a little help from Madame Foster along the way. Once she did, she thought she might as well check out her safety mirror - she had to be _safe _about this, right? Despite her occassional recklessness, she obeyed all the rules of traffic like the average citizen. Yeah, she remembered Mr. Herriman constantly yaking on her case about every little scrimpy detail of her chores (and life) that didn't even matter, and _this _didn't exclude her abilities as a driver. Sometimes she wished he'd just _butt _out for once and let her do her job, instead of taking her away for hours at a time to bark in her face. But she supposed it couldn't be helpd; he was imagined to exist and his existence depended soely on his love of rules and Madame Foster, but nothing else. Sympathy loomed in the distance when she remembered his confiding in her a week after the Elections:

_...I had to find something else to occupy my time. I needed to feel useful._

So upsetting the balance of power only served to oust out the only dedicated member who had a soulmate in paperwork; like _she _had any idea. And Frankie knew she was right; she ran the house a hundred times better than he would have in an eternity. But financially speaking, the job only amounted to handful of beans. Or in this case, a handful of carrots. She relinquished the title without his being aware of the circumstances and things went back to normal. Or for Frankie, just more stressful and ridiculously overcomplicated than she wished.

_Huh? _She thought immediately after that close-to-painful memory reared it's ugly head. She had a weird warm sensation in her hand. _That's weird._

"Something wrong, Frankie?"

Snapping up, Frankie almost ran a red light and halted the breaks. The bus quivered like a wobbly tree and it was all Frankie could do not to beat open her skull for getting distracted. And some of the change fell out. _Stupid rabbit, him and his stupid rules, it drives me crazy!_

"I-I'm fine!" she said to Mac. "We're almost there." Mac was already on work going for the stray coins that fell out of her pocket, and retrieved them from the narrow space at the bottom of the doorstep before the light changed to green. "Thanks pal!" Frankie expressed gratefully. Mac tossed them into the pocket and went back to his seat.

Then Frankie concetrated on the road ahead. They were just about one more block aware from the store. They made good time, and Frankie confidently thought about how she'd get all the chores done before Mr. Herriman even knew she was gone. _Absolutely no problems_, she thought with a grin. She shifted her eyes to check the mirror again while thinking, _I'm going to get this done on time and I won't have to feel that stupid pressure on my back anymore. I just have to get past this block and then- huh? _

A cursory glance at the side mirror changed her tone instantly. She wasn't thinking about that at all. Driving behind the bus was an old truck. It was a pretty beat down-looking carrier truck the color of the rank bile Frankie cleaned out of toliets at the house, with a dirty looking windshield to boot- so dirty she had no idea who was driving behind it. Wait- why would she think that? Why was it any of her business? And why all of a sudden were her hands trembling at the wheel, enough to a make a mattress vibrate?

She was very sane at this moment. It wasn't like she _hadn't _seen crazy drivers before or obsessed lovers (Like she had any time for that), but she found them annoying. Just annoying and nothing else. She hadn't done anything to anybody, right? Why was _this _guy chasing her? She wildly wondered; she hadn't known anybody to drive such a poor conditioned, ugly looking truck one would find in a junkyard. Whatever the case, this whole thing started 2 weeks ago...

_Come to think of it, didn't cottonbutt start acting weird two weeks ago? _Frankie thought distantly. But she shoved that train of thought into the garbage. Like almost everything else, it wasn't of any importance.

_But yeah... that's right, _she remembered, the thought settling in like a forgotten chill. She remembered it wasn't the first time that it happened. It wasn't the first time she'd seen that truck. The first time she _did_ was when she took out the garbage after the 3rd food fight started by Bloo in that week. She saw it drive by in the night, like it was going to park right in front of the house. Frankie assumed that it must have been another customer come looking to adopt a friend. But that wasn't the case. The inside of that truck was dark and since it was night, she couldn't see the driver. The truck paused if considering a heavy decision. It had slowed to a crawl. Then it continued on. Very slowly. Frankie watched it's movements and even as it dissappeared around the corner.

In over two weeks she'd seen the truck around the corner of Wilson Way, sitting there, just lying in wait, way on the other side from Old Man River's house. She saw it coming from the grocery store and whenever she went out to the stables, just briefly looking over her shoulder and trying to pretend it didn't exist.- or maybe she imagined it. Yeah. It was in her imagination, right?

No, that was never the case. Either she just couldn't ignore it or she was going crazy. Frankie didn't want to forward think about the humiliating consequences of either.

Mac noticed Frankie acting weird- the giveway was when without word or slightest motion of her head was when she passed the hardware store. Looking confused, he asked, "Uh, Frankie? We missed the store."

However Frankie didn't hear him. Already swept in the paranoia of a pursuing truck she had forgotten about the store. At the same time, she kept convincing herself she was _not _going crazy and she wasn't trying to ignore it. What could one truck do to an entire bus? And why was it just following _her_ around? Why was she even worrying herself about it!? Why?!

Frankie looked back over her shoulder out of the window and saw that the truck was still following closely behind. If she was in control of herself, now it was falling to pieces. _Why is that guy following me?_

For the first time Mac noticed the truck and got worried. "Uh, Frankie? There's a truck behind us." Mac had no idea what was going on. And the bus was going at an unruly speed. Frankie nearly knocked down 2 pedestrians (who thankfully ducked out of the way) and a lantern. Since he'd already buckled himself in earlier, Mac was safe, but that doesn't count to points were terror was concerned. "FRANKIE!? F-FRANKIE!? W-what's g-g-g-go-o-o-o-oing ON!?!"

The Foster's bus reached a critical speed. Frankie was starting to chuckle nervously. "I-I don't know! This creep's been following me everywhere, what's his deal?" She sounded more frightened with every second.

Frankie started getting oblivious to the surroundings and loud yells and ducked the bus around another corner. "Oh yeah?! Try and Keep up!" But to her horror, any dangerous manuever failed to ditch that filthy truck. And it didn't help Mac. Each time she suddenly turned the direction of the bus around, it threw Mac off his feet.

It didn't take a genius to know something was _off _about this whole scenario. Once he recovered from smacking his head against the window side of the bus, Mac subcumed to fear through cold sweat. Mac stared first at the frazzled caretaker, then behind them where that rusty brown truck with dirty windshield was still pursuing them. _What's with that truck? Why is it still following us? Is this for real?! It's like one of those scenes out of chase movies!!_

"Go _away!!!_" He heard the hysterical woman scream.

The truck wouldn't stop pursuing them. Mac started to see what was so frightening about that truck. _I feel... dizzy_.

Sweat running down her features, Frankie could see that they were being hounded like prey. Whoever it was wasn't some punk stalker; but she didn't know anything else. Nor did she care. She just wanted to get as far away from that predator that snaked its' way around every corner, after _them_. It acted like this wasn't a chase anymore; now it was more like a decisive game of cat and mouse.

It failed, and now the meter was over _120 mph_, which would've overheated the bus, but Frankie stared back beyond all that. The truck swung around the _same _corner as she did, and parked. It chased all around the whole freaking city and it stopped short of being in reach and it PARKED. Unable to supress it, rage flooded the hysterical caretaker's face.

Frankie turned another corner, more furious than last time in a last ditch effort. The switch became so brutal and violent, it almost threw the bus on it's side and tore up some of the soder on the road. Now they were speeding towards a railroad crossing, and the gates were flashing down. Frankie cursed her luck; she wasn't getting a break. The only thing breaking was Frankie's tolerance to hysteria. _W-what? RRRRGGGGHH!!! I CAN'T believe this is happening. Why did I have to get chased around? How unfair is this-!? _ "....!? MAC!!?" Her mind went numb and the blood in her veins froze.

Mac's body was thrown against the opposite side again, but this time with more impact that his head smacked the window, cracking both _it _and his skull at the same time. Mac fell unconscious and pieces of the window started falling off the side of the bus. All of Francis "Frankie" Foster's systems went a *360 and tugged at the heartstrings. She rushed on over to Mac and cradled the bleeding head, bursting into tears as she realized what a foolish mistake she made turning the bus so hard. Horrified at Mac's condition she yelled, "H-Hey! Mac! Wake up! Y-you _okay!?_ I... I!! Oh, GOD... NO!! NOO!!!" Blood stained her emerald-sleeve arms and seeped down into her hands. She was choking on delayed gulps of air, her eyes trembling terror, and the thick air made it hard to breathe... Frankie's eyes grew dim and the air seemed to turn orange and red.

The Bus slowed down to a halt but that went ignored by a hysterically sobbing caretaker. She had a hard time getting back up on her feet, and her head built up into irritation as she started hearing screams. Shock stole her face in more ways than one- For starters when the bus made a massive _jerk_ and crashed into a second car in front of Frankie. Her head smacked against another of the windows- unfortunately, one of them being the window Mac crashed into earlier. The sharp and fractured ends of the glass pierced only an inch of skin, but it still hurt like hell. Frankie's mind was probably in that same condition.

Her eyes were still wide open, and she saw as well as anybody else that they were right in the middle of the tracks.

_Oh... no... no!!! Mac...!!_

Strength failed on her and to her horror, she couldn't get it back. _Heh, heh, hehhehe. I'm going... to... die!? But Mac's still a child! He's supposed to go to grade school. Get an education and other crap like that. How'd he get here!? _

_Wait. H... how'd I get here? I got chased around and..._

It seemed funny to Frankie that her eyes rolled in the direction of the gas meter. To her half-surprise the gas meter ran empty. She realized her mistake too late: she wasted all the gas in the Foster's Bus and now it was on empty... that was strangely inconvenient. Not strange enough maybe; but she had already reached a point where going back may have been too late. She distantly thought it couldn't get any worse.

_Oh wait. Scratch that. It did. _Her thinking or mental aim or whatever they called it was definitely _not _off. She remembered that the crossing gates were down and the headlights of an incoming train were closing in on the bus caught between two previously crushed cars. Literally they were right in a sandwich.

Frankie choked on half-hearted laughter; she spent the almost the day complaining about her life and now it seemed like she going to get that long-deserved break she'd demanded. Tears streamed down her face.

_No! This isn't fair! This isn't FAIR at all! Why'd it have to happen to me! I just WANTED to buy some stupid Gardening tools and GET back to FOSTERS so I can.... I was GONNA... MAC DIDN'T... But Mac was gonna... and Mac... we had a lot to live for and we end up like... THIS!? _

_CRASH!!!_

The train viciously smacked the bus sideways and forced it down the tracks. The steel on the bottom created friction, overloading the motor. It exploded, taking the whole front half of the bus. Caught in the blast, the train nose blew up and the grinding car wheels started to derail and diverge away from the track colliding with another incoming train on the opposite track. Debris flew everywhere starting a mini-fire. Bent beyond recognition, the bus was flattened harder than a soda can, the windows crushed to jelly and the seat stuffing raining down from the air. Managed bodies of Frankie and Mac were caught in the blast. Frankie's head had been decapitated, eyes still wide open. Her body, or what was left of it, guts, ovaries and pruned legs, were either smashed under the railcars or hucked aside in the grassy narrows. Time seemed to slow down; the worst 3 minutes of life as a disembodied head. Mac's body was ripped to ribbons. Oh the cruel irony, his fate worse if not just as gruesome as Frankie's. His clothes fabric, skin, and skull cut through like a _melon _shell. She saw all of it, though her mind ran into a wall etched with single repeating thought.

_Oh... wow. This isn't fair. I just wanted to get the stupid chores done... so Peter Cottontail would get off my goddamn back for ONCE... And now I'm dead... dead... and so's Mac... this is just... stupid. _

Out of view, more explosions ensued from the bent debris and the trackwork bent out of shape. Cars kept crashing into each other, and pretty soon it was a mountain of damage. you couldn't tell whether or not a bus and two innocent civilians had been crushed beneath, their blood simultaneously staining the area around... but she had strong doubts that anyone was going to see that. Or guess that for two of the common residents of Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends, an idyllic stroll turned into an insane nightmare with no clear cause.

Frankie's head, missing an eye, a mouth, and a bit of tongue dropped down to Earth again with a thud. The blood kept leaking out of Frankie's skull and the brain, whatever was left, ceased functioning with a futile, depressed thought.

_Oh well... I guess that's how life works... if this was really way it had to..._

**Pause?**

**Save and Quit?**

--

**NC: Happy Camper Planning**


	6. Happy Camper Planning

**Previously: **

_- Meet Francis "Frankie" Foster, 22-year-old graduate. Caretaker at Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends and virtually underneath Mr. Herriman in terms of employee hierarchy. She's a little apathetic but she can be emotional at times. Blissfully unaware of the strange going ons of her employer, she and Mac went down to the convenience store to get some gardening tools. Only to be shadowed by a murderous stalker. They manage to get away, but unfortunately they get run over and killed by an incoming train. Just what was up with that mysterious brown truck? And are Frankie and Mac really dead? What was going on at the House right around the vaguely established period of time that Frankie and Mac were gone? _

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* * *

"_LAZLO!! Great Gaia, man where have you _BEEN!!" exclaimed Raj happily. "It es NOT very, very good to late for a get together of the scouts, right?" He and Clam were sitting in a couple of seats a row down from the front. Smiling, Lazlo stole the spare seat. He didn't understand why Raj was troubled and laughed casually. "Where's Scoutmaster Lumpus?" he asked, turning his left and right. "Didn't he say something about an announcement?" Only for the good intentions of all the campers, right? Whatever it was, Lazlo was about to bust out of his seat! He could barely contain the excitement.

Most of the other Kidney Bean Campers were there as well. But a few of them had skipped out for the volley ball courts. But Lazlo wasn't like any of them; maybe they couldn't, but he would uphold the proud Kidney name for all of them, because that was just his nature. No matter what, Lazlo would do all the good he could do for Camp Kidney.

Way up front, Slinkman was setting up the microphone while handling a stapleboard at the same time. "And microphone A is installed... okay," he muttered checking it off.

Overhead, Scoutmaster Lumpus's voice came booming through the top-corner speakerphones. "_Slinkman! Report to my office now!!_ "

Both eyestalks drooped down and Slinkman stepped down the podium and out the Mess Hall door. "_What _could he want now? He SAID setting up the speaker system was first priority, I _don't get it..._"

Staving off boredom wasn't one of Lazlo's naturally developed abilities. In a few seconds needle-high legs swung inches above the woodwork of the floor like a pair of guillotines. "It's like riding on a train!"

Raj and Clam got the joke and played along. Clam imitated the sounds a choo-choo would make (To a perfect degree), while Raj played "butler" and asked his simian friend, "Hello, _siiiir_, how you like your coffee today?"

He never heard of coffee, let alone tried it. All Lazlo knew was that it was some kind of icky black goop daddies and mommies drank, for... some reasons involving energy- and even _that _didn't make any sense.

Lazlo faked a fancier tone. "_I'll _have it black, _two_ sugar lumps, _please_."

"Ah very good, sir, your coffee will be ready in two shakes of a slither! And what will you have, good sir?" he asked Clam. All Clam said was, "Uh, rock juice!"

Raj raised an eyebrow before it hit him. "Oh, you mean, _Juice on the Rocks!_"

"No, sweet Rock Juice." Raj was a little freaked out; he figured he might as well accept the order. A pretend game wouldn't have been any fun unless it had "creative" elements like that. "Uh, okay. Sweet Rock Juice coming up."

"And make sure mine has plenty of dioxin!"

"What?" Raj cocked an eye; he rarely heard his simian companion use unusually complicated words like _that_.

"You know," a smiling Lazlo explained, "The stuff that keeps your body free of viral impediments." Well, that cleared everything, so Raj was satisfied. "One cup of black coffee _free _of dioxins!" Raj exclaimed with a nasally voice, and in a lower voice, "And a small Rock Juice." Clam nodded.

Lazlo casually kept staring outside the window of their "Express train"; they were bound for exotic and fancy lands, he was sure.

* * *

(_Scene Change; Acorn Flats_)

"... And this leads up to Bullet number 32, how the outward physical anatomy of an acorn can power a series circuit of 5 lightbulbs," A girl giraffe explained diplomatically while strafing a cut stick at a dusty chalkboard.

Many of the other squirrels kept to attention. Some, particularly the ones sitting in the back lazily sipping their ping colada (non-alcoholic of course!), were bored and dazed.

The only Acorn Scout who seemed enthusiastic enough to listen intently and take notes was ironically Nina's scholarly friend, Almondine.

"How very interesting! It's quite invigorating to understand how the outward appearance of the natural acorn conceals easily conductable 143 points! What an astounding find!" Add to her excitement, Almondine's owl head spun on it's axis. "I could power up nations and controllers, and electrical outlets!!"

"Why, thank you! Yes, I think the same way as well!" Nina chirped. Her pride was beginning to swell, especially for the intellectual commentary she just received. She let out a laugh and thoughtfully added, "And we can't just limit it to anything like bulbs or controller. It could power an entire country from where it starts, to where it ENDS! The limitless POSSIBILITIES!!"

Almondine literally dropped her jaw, but as far as Patsy was concerned, Nina could keep her repeatedly compounded theories and shove them where the sun didn't shine. Seriously, Patsy thought, she was _such _a bookworm. She wondered why they hung out at all.

Apparently Gretchen was thinking the same thing, unsuccessfully stifling a mocking laugh. Nina didn't seem to hear, too engrossed with her little "teaching session". For a stupid camp activity, Nina sure took it seriously. Gretchen looked off on the side. Ms. Mucus and Headmistress Doe were standing right near table. It was obvious to Gretchen which of the two were less than "stimulated" by this activity. Gretchen thought (like a large number of other scouts) that Doe wasn't exactly the keenest when it came to anything that had "smarts" in it, with more than 3 pages. That, and Gretchen couldn't picture anybody like a focused Ms. Mucus picking up anything other than a melon-squishing hammer. Gretchen's eyes traveled back to the chattering mouth; it sounded like her giraffe friend's spirited voyage to the arcane world of the _boring _was winding down; and speaking of _squished _foods, she noticed her sautéed beans were getting cold.

Sensing the end, a clear-headed Jane Doe let out a sparkled laugh and yelled, "Ohohoho! Great, uh, Lesson, Nina!"

Nina snorted proudly. "Thanks, Ms. Doe!"

The wave of ovation came in a ripple. But Nina was hardly daunted in the least. Ms. Mucus launched a lougie straight about 100 yards away from Nina. This caught Gretchen's and Patsy's eyes and they stared at each other in amazement. "Pfft, she's got a head on her shoulder, that's for sure." _Nerd._

"Oh it's just the beginners edition, Headmistress! There an extended large archive of info on the complexities and astrological significance of the amazing acorn! B-but with your permission, _of course_!"

Ms. Doe was taken aback. "O-oh uh, how uh, lovely, dear."

A loud groan went up from most of other squirrels in dismay. Nina huffed, held a stiff chin up, while Almondine clapped in support. Patsy was thankful she and Gretchen were in the back, or their friend would've seen their faces squinting at the thought.

_I'd sooner chew on Titanium_, Gretchen thought.

_Seriously, this sounds even lamer than a Bean Scout Activity, _Patsy thought.

"All RIGHT," Ms. Mucus sternly huffed. "Settle down, _kids_, it's time for Announcements! Starting next week, we'll be getting a new camper, and _she _will be assigned a particular cabin. Next on the agenda is the coming of the annual Beans vs. Squirrels Tri-athelon Wednesday, around 8:00. I EXPECT YOU TO SYNCHRONIZE YOUR CLOCKS!"

The outcry that came out of the squirrels was less receiving of the news than Nina's 5-hour droning.

"Oooh!" came Ms. Doe's cheerful yell. "Another wonderful communion _sesshion _with the Bean Scouts headed by Scoutmaster _Looompus! _Won't it be fun?" But nobody really paid her any mind. Ms. Doe never was aware when the atmosphere went tense. But she hoped that at least Squirrels and Beans could get along if they did more activities together, and that's what the great outdoors were for, right?

Gretchen was dead set against it; from what she'd, or _any _other girl would've seen, Bean Scouts had the poise of a stray alley cat, and the etiquette of a jewel-rimmed turd. Plus, compared to Acorn Flats and the squirrels, it was obvious which was more favored. What was Ms. Doe, or even Ms. Mucus, for _that _matter, thinking?

_Another co-camp event? _thought Patsy. The words carried a wild fantasy with it. Patsy thought it over: another day with the Bean Scouts was another day where both scoutmaster's would pit them in another cohesive cornucopia of ridiculous events; it was just like last time; and she could be with her object of interest!

_Lazlo...._

"Oh no," cried Gretchen. But she was so quiet nobody else noticed. Ms. Mucus and Ms. Doe were still telling the other squirrels the details of their schedule for today, but Gretchen could've cared less. Oh, and how _could _she when her ditzy, pink-haired best friend and leader had hearts in her eyes!

A loud cheer was raised by the squirrels at something Ms. Doe was talking about, and Nina came back. "Hey guys," she said. "I did a fantasic job up there, don't you think?"

"_Laz...lo....?_" was the first thing that escaped Patsy's lips. Nina batted a confused eye. "Is... something wrong with Patsy?"

"She's just thinking about that Bean Scout," said Gretchen.

"Oh, you mean the monkey!" Nina yelled, making a few of the back row squirrels turn around and stare at her. She chuckled nervously before they turned away. "Oh, so it's Lazlo, huh? Really, Patsy, you're so _easy _to read!"

Patsy couldn't hide the blush. "N-No I'm not! B-besides! Boys are disgusting right?"

Gretchen rolled her eyes. "Tch. Duh."

Nina held up a book and said in a matter-of-factly voice, "Well, Patsy that could actually be a good thing. According to my standardized, written, and _CAREFULLY_ thought out researching prowess, the results of the last test showed that the end result of our _last _unified activity, you won due to the hidden power of your "Womanly Effect"."

Gretchen and Patsy stared at each other then back at Nina. Even they had to admit that that last bit flew over their heads. Nina let out a sigh and explained anyway. "Your "womanly effect" is your "Girl Charm". It came into fruition during the pine-cone sitting contest."

Patsy's and Gretchen's reactions were shivers. Nina shivered as badly as them. Boy or Girl, it didn't make a difference; the "pine-cone sitting contest" was a literally a _pain on the hindquarters. _And a very bad way to settle owning rights for a stupid mud puddle.

"Still," Gretchen said in a rare afterthought, "We beat those dirty _Beans _into next week, _and _won an awesome mud puddle. You have to admit that it was the best 2 weeks of our _lives_." Patsy and Nina agreed.

"Regardless," Nina went on, "Your _charm_ struck Mr. Lazlo's hormones and he fell first, remember?"

How _could _she forget? Everyone had seen it. (Even Al Lumpus, who was strongly disinterested and barely connected) One foggy, hot summer afternoon, and Lazlo looking plain and unaffected by the excruciating pain he had to have been experiencing finally "broke", and fell off. Patsy became the winner. Patsy remembered perfectly, just as she remembered all 1,203 old war reels she watched with her daddy.

"Oh, _hey! _I remember it! I remember _all _of it," she chirped dreamily. If it was possible, she blushed harder. Her inability to conceal it was obvious. The thought of a girl's hormones and all the stuff that mommies and daddies talked about with their kids; it disgusted her, plus it was too much for her to comprehend. Gretchen rolled her eyes and let out a "Bleeggh! Give me a break. Boys are disgusting!" She grit her teeth and pulled out a nail filer, grinding her already sharp nails against the metal grating. "_Especially Bean Scouts_. Think about it: they are _rude, crude, and don't smell nice_."

Now it was Nina's turn to roll her eyes and shake her head. Of course, the tougher of the trio would have no imagination, no compromise; the blond reptile's answer to almost anything was brute force. Then Nina clapped her hands in excitement. "Hey!" She cried. "I just got an idea! What if we can use that to our advantage next week Wednesday?"

"What...!?" they reacted confusedly. Gretchen stopped filing her nails.

"Patsy's crush on the monkey and Monkey's reaction?" she explained, her jade eyes showing through her thick lenses. "It's just a little idea I thought would be _interesting _to experiment."

"That's _stupid!_" bellowed an angry Gretchen, grabbing her neckerchief. "How would that help us in _any _way!?"

"H-hey, you two, knock it off!" Patsy tried mediating the situation before it fell out of hand. Already a big number of the other squirrels listening to Ms. Mucus's announcements were staring their way. All three fell back to their seats in embarrassment. Patsy sighed and decided that _loud whispering _was just the same as _shouting. _Once they fell silent, the squirrels went back to listening to Ms. Doe at the front, pulling out a chart. _Must be strategy time_, Patsy was thinking.

Nina's glasses would've fallen off if she hadn't pushed back with only her index finger. She leaned over kept whispering, making sure her voice was low enough just for Gretchen and Patsy to hear:

"I already know _that _Acorn Flats win every year, but it'd be funnier if we can do it and run circles around the Bean Scouts' heads."

Patsy leaned back to Nina's ear; Gretchen kept to her seat- she had good hearing and no need to lean over. "_How do you mean, Nina?_" The curious mongoose whispered back. Nina's glasses were about to slip off her big nose but she pushed them back on. "I _mean, that if, and this is only a theory, but, if Lazlo reacts that way around you and HAPPENS to lose, what are the chances that it could happen again?_"

There wasn't much to Nina's "plan" but nonetheless Patsy kept an open ear. "Keep _going..._"

"_If it happens, we'd win easily and the Bean Scouts would be humiliated, but especially the Bean Scouts would be humiliated._ It'd be totally sweet. And boys are just _that _easy."

Patsy scratched her head before whispering back, "Nina, that doesn't sound like a plan! That sounds kind of vague and misguided! And you haven't said yet how we're taking on... uh, those other two that hand out with Lazlo!"

Gretchen was half asleep, while way up at the front the meeting and plans of strategy for the upcoming Wednesday "Tournament" were already coming to a close. But she heard Nina in any case and muttered, "Besides, _Nina_, we always mop the floor with _Beans_. Nothing they'd have or do could change their "loserdom". And they get thoroughly humiliated every _year_, anyway! It's just going to be boring. That's all it ever is."

Patsy nodded. Now that she was thinking it over, Nina's plan didn't have much "meat" in the middle. The only part that sounded good was the part Patsy assumed was "getting to mess with another boy's head", particularly her love interest. But just where _was _Nina trying to go with all of this?

"I'm well aware of that, Gretchen," Nina pointed out. "That's why when she gets here, we'll _really _spice things up."

Patsy looked at Nina stunned, while Gretchen's only form of movement was raising an eyelid. "Who's she?!" They both asked.

"You'd be surprised at the kind of things you can learn when you've got the daughter of a CIA _government agent _as your pen pal." Nina snickered and her mouth curved into a sick smile. Both Patsy and Gretchen's eyes bulged wide in surprise. Patsy asked, "Are you serious?" and her mind went places. "Yeah!" she answered.

"Ha!" Gretchen sneered. "No way! You're lying! That can't be true!"

"It is too!"

The conversation escalated to yelling. "It is not!"

Nina started sounding frantic; it was hard keeping calm when talking to an alligator- they tended to be stubborn as a mule. "A-And guess what? I figured out that she was my cousin on my mother's sister's side, and she wrote to me, saying she wanted to see Acorn Flats herself!"

"For reals, huh?" Patsy asked. Nina nodded twice. Patsy stared at her friend while she did a little thinking.

"And you just happened to suddenly be told about this before you went to camp, why?" Gretchen sneered.

"W-well," Nina stammered, "If she's the daughter of a CIA agent then..." then the height-dominant giraffe went starry-eyed with realization. "Then she must have grown up and not been allowed to be in contact with anyone face-to-face!"

"Hmm..." muttered Patsy. "That _would _make sense."

Nina happily agreed, "Yeah! After all, her dad was working for the govenerment, and they like keeping secrets! Like your dad, right?"

Patsy hesitated before nodding. The topic of her dad was a little too sensitive to touch on, making her feel humiliated. "Well... my dad's an Ex-General for the army, it's not the _same thing_."

"Are you kidding me?" Nina coughed. "That's usually where the Government gets their power. Of course it's the same thing. I should know. I studied an entire case relating to the use of warfare in foreign countries."

Gretchen sighed annoyed and rebuked both. "Hey! Shouldn't we stick to the main topic here? _So _you found out that your "cousin" has a dad that's CIA, _big deal_. So, does that mean she gets to use awesome weapons and stuff like big guns?" But in the odd silence that followed, Gretchen cringed at the thought of large military artillery. no matter how tough she talked, she was still only a kid.

"No, it's not like that! She said that she doesn't have any kind of access to stuff like that. Uh! Come on, she's only a kid! Like you and me!"

Patsy titled her head. "Just because she's a kid doesn't mean she's not without a girl's charm. Doesn't she try using her "Girly charm" like the most of us Squirrels?"

"What?" Nina gawked. "It doesn't work like that! What you're thinking is entirely different. What happened with you and Lazlo was what I'd like to call "charming intimidation". What _you're _thinking is "persuasion"." Now even Nina herself was getting a little annoyed with having to explain everything.

"Even SO!" Patsy whispered hoarsely back.

"I know that's a little disappointing, but _this _will sound just as better. She's really good at _formulating _tactical advancements on an enemy base and without so much any detection!" Nina explained.

"So?" Gretchen whispered back. "Patsy knows that stuff, too. From her _dad_. What's the point of having _two _"tact-TIC-cal Planners" in our threesome?"

"Because!" Nina retorted. "Three Beans and Three Squirrels are just too evenly matched." But then all three let out a little snicker and a little bit of laughter. Then all fell silent as Nina whispered in a serious tone, "No. Seriously. They may be _Beans_ and maybe they aren't not as good as we are..."

"Or co-ordinated, _or _handicap-able, or focused, _or _smart, _or _well-groomed..." Gretchen put in.

"_Whatever! _The point is that it is just too evenly matched when it's _three _vs. _three_."

Maybe it was because she felt a little sympathy for her friend, but Patsy was starting to warm up to the idea. She could see the logic of overpowering an enemy in numbers; after all, unless they were so skilled they could do it in their sleep, no one person could outwit 3 Beans without even trying. And she figured it wouldn't be so bad to have a fourth addition to their little "group". "I guess that is a good idea," she said.

"What!?" Gretchen cried. "You really want to add a fourth person to our group?"

"Yeah, why not?" Patsy said, not seeing why Gretchen was getting worked up. "And I think it's a unanimous decision. I _am _the Leader in our group, aren't I?"

Bookish Nina pointed towards her Squirrel Scouts Manual, which she had turned up from under her seat. "Well it's only by standard Protocol. You aren't the "leader" simply by choice, you are our leader because you're the most capable."

Patsy smiled and raised a fist in confirmation. "Exactly. So, I agree that we could use a fourth member for our Cabin."

_Fantastic_, Gretchen thought dismally. _More clutter in our closet. _"So you really think this'll actually work?"

Most of the Acorn Flats squirrels had already dispersed and the Headmistress already gone. Patsy could've cared less, giggling. Something about what Nina was saying was getting her pumped and excited. She got up and stood on a table, having a domineering glint in her eyes. "Well we don't have anything to lose, and certainly not our _pride_. More power for the us means more smackdown for those Bean Scouts," she began. "And we love to _beat _those bean scouts, right?"

"Definitely!" both replied cheerfully.

"AND, Squirrel Scouts, we like to occasionally humiliate them, right?"

"Nothing more worth enjoying!" Gretchen yelled.

"Then we're set either way we see it. Of course, _they _won't see, cause _they _won't see it coming when we take them down next week Wednesday with a _fourth _member. So, Gretchen, with that said, we're going to win, and it's going to feel great. With _my _Leadership skills, _Nina's _brains, _your _brawn, and Nina's cousin's help, the Bean Scouts won't stand a chance!"

Gretchen popped up from her chair in a burst of excitement, when Patsy finished. She cracked her knuckles. Next to her best with throwing a good punch, she was an equally avid diehard security protocol fanatic. "CIA plus Camp Activity equals better stuff for us and zilch for Camp Kidney! Sounds like _this _ought to be COOL!"

* * *

(_Scene Change; Camp Kidney - Mess Hall_)

He didn't think about it much, but that whole morning Clam seemed to be out of it. Fact is, Lazlo was surprised it bothered him at all. Well, why _did _he think about it if it didn't worry him that much? Most the Beans called them freaks, but Lazlo ignored them, or he didn't think they were serious. Freaks were people who had nothing better to do than act cruel or unkindly to everybody but themselves; they were people who couldn't accept themselves wholly. He didn't see himself as that. And his friends didn't see themselves that way either!

Come to think of it, as he remembered, it took "all kinds of 'freaks' to rock the world", wouldn't it? So being a freak didn't sound bad after all. Raj loved food, he was Indian, (_or Hindu, as he said_) and he had a 2nd belly button; he was one of Lazlo's most loyal friends, despite his obvious close-mindedness. Clam was rumored ingenious, French and... well, he knew he was "good with making stuff". He also spoke in such a raspy voice. It was hard not to admit it- they were quite an odd bunch.

- _earlier _-

_Lazlo let out a yawn and streched his limbs. Every waking nerve was already tingling with excitement; today was going to be the first of an all school-free summer. No School, no homework, no stupid math problems, and NO school yard bullies-who-chase-you-all-around-the-whole-playground-hounding-you-for-lunch-money-then-they-corner-you-in-the-back-alley-wall-and-give-you-the-evil-eye-and-evil-laugh-which-totally-makes-you-wet-your-pants-and-gives-you-a-black-eye, and BEST of all, no TESTS!_

_Like every morning, Lazlo woke up to get ready and proudly shout, "GOOD MORNING, CAMP- Clam?" _

_He didn't finish because he could clearly see Clam bent over, underneath his bed. Was he playing a game of hide or seek? So where was Raj then? No. No, he couldn't have been. His friend had the job of getting up and sounding the bugle. "What are you doing?" _

_Clam quickly got up, took two glances back at the bed, and started scrambling to fix the covers on his bed. "Nothing!" he said. Lazlo raised an eyebrow - but decided that he shouldn't really worry about it. Besides if he was that cautious about dust mites under the room floors like Raj, Lazlo didn't see anything to be worried about. He never did get that whole deal about "cleanliness"; Sampson was the only Camper he heard of to go to such extreme measures. _

_He got dressed in a hurry. Clam was already ahead of him, and by the time he got his shirt on, he heard Clam skipping out the door. But his steps sounded rapid and panicked. Odd. Maybe he just couldn't wait for breakfast; they _were _going to serve Belgian Waffles and beans today, he remembered. _

_Clam stuck his head back inside the cabin and said, "Camp assembly. New Camper." Then pulled it out again. _

_Ugh. Hearing "assembly" in his ears made it sound like School. The crotchety old teacher droning on about financial plans, study sessions, and other stuff the spider monkey didn't care much about. School was the practically the "final frontier" Lazlo hated going back to _every _fall. In his mind, a better word he would've used was "gathering"; he smiled, because, it sounded a MILLION times more adventurous than "assembly", and it's every syllable was a sweet melody echoing through his ears. _

_But what was he talking about when he said "New Camper"? Even Lazlo wasn't stupid; new camper meant what it did. A new camper was going to come to Camp Kidney; forgetting his earlier distaste with "Assembly" _this _actally sounded like an exciting change. A new camper to make friends with! There wasn't a second to waste then. Slipping on his shoes Lazlo burst out of Jelly Cabin like a rocket. _

_- present -_

"Lazlo! LAZLO!"

"Huh?"

"I've been telling you for the past 5 minutes, here is the black coffee you ordered!" "Train attendant" Raj nudged his simian friend. It snapped him out of his thoughts. With that, he handed Lazlo a paper cup with the"black coffee" inside. "Oh!" Lazlo responded before nodding. "Uh, Thank you! Yes." Then he took a few slurps of the coffee while staring "outside" the "train".

Raj started noticing the strange look on his friend's face. "We will be arriving soon to our destination- Uh, you alright?"

Lazlo looked back at Clam; he looked as spry and fun-seeking. No substantial change at all; he'd been worried over nothing! "No, I'm fine!" He said to Raj finally.

"Something amiss with your coffee?"

_"_No this is _great _coffee!"

"Oh... well, good! And how are we doing over here, sir?"

Clam cast a silent nod of approval and grinned holding his... rock juice. Which was an actual rock. (Raj didn't have much to work with; he couldn't waste a perfectly good paper cup by tearing it up with the sharp points of a rock!)

"O...kay, good! Oh, sirs! It looks like the train has stopped at the station!" Right when Raj said that in a very dedicated and current manner, Clam let out a holler of, "WOOOOOOOOOOWOOOOOOOOOO!!"

"WILL YOU NINCOMPOOPS PIPE DOWN!?"

This came from Edward, who was sitting two rows back with the other two pinto beans, Chip and Skip. They had just arrived at the Mess Hall after an intense game of Volleyball.

"Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh! Sir, no loud voices will be tolerated on the _passenger car!_" Raj scolded him. Edward had no idea what he meant. "Huh?"

"We're playing "Sitting on the Train"!" Lazlo cheerfully announced. "Want to join us!"

Edward burst out laughing, but Lazlo seemed not daunted in the least; maybe he was getting to be really good friends with Edward after all. It looked like for some reason, he'd appealed to some rare sense of humor he never knew he had.

But once he stopped laughing Edward answered with a sour, "No."

"Awesome!" He wasn't good with grammar, but Lazlo knew definitely when someone was being ironic- unfortunately, he couldn't tell Edward said exactly what he meant. "Raj can take your order!"

"No, that I cannot do! The train is about to stop here at the Camp Kidney Mess Hall Station, and there will be NO time for post-refreshments!"

"UGH," sighed Edward, positively exasperated with Jelly Cabin. He wasn't in any mood to have anything to do with them. They were just annoying. Where were the head hanchos right now? Why hadn't they got on with this stupid assembly meeting? _Didn't they say something about a new camper or something? _The arrogant platypus's mind was filled with foreboding dread. Another _braindead moron _was coming to camp. _Camp Kidney has enough of THOSE, _he lamentably thought, staring at his two "bunkmates", Chip and Skip.

"New Camper? Ooh, what do you think'll be like?" Chip asked his brother.

Skip answered, "I bet he's probably a sissy- No, wait! Maybe he likes playing in dirt!"

"Just like us!" Chip hollered. "That'd be sweet! And we can to go Marshmallow Fires and Archery classes, and watch ants, and roll around in dirt..."

"Don't be a dummie!" Skip chastised him, slapping him. Chip didn't really feel it. "You're the only one who does that!" "Does what?" "Roll around in dirt." "You do that too!" "I do?" "Yeah, dummie!" "You're _dummier!_" "Uh-uh! I'm not starting _that _again!" The argument ran into non-expletives of about 20 syllables each, prompting Edward to slap himself in the forehead. _Eeee-yep. Braindead, like I figured. We don't need another braindead moron when we're the Camp that is up to our NECKS in morons. _Like every day it happened, Edward accepted the reality of their Camp status compared with any other camp in Arkansas (Which, to Edward's inner fury, was literally run by an actual bean). It was a sad, ramshackle dump. Worse than that was how Acorn Flats regularly berated their simple little camp with all of _their _awesome stuff, things Camp Kidney was certainly never going to get. Edward said once that there was "nothing cool about Camp Kidney", and times have proven him to be right. Although, it sucked to be right. Ed hated his life.

Being deep in thought made Edward unable to notice Lazlo walking to his seat, where he cheerfully boomed, "Hey Edward! You sure you don't want a cup of coffee? The train's about to stop!"

"I told you that there will be NO refreshments until the train started to _move _again, sirs!"

"WILL YOU PEOPLE GET OFF MY BACK!? I SAID NO!"

It didn't seem like Lazlo was shaken by the angry Ed. "Okay, Ed! I'll save you an extra cup later at the concession stand," said the simian as he returned to his seat.

This unseated all of Edward's built up cunning and superior logic. Nothing seemed to daunt that idiot; he was as unshakeable as a mountain.

* * *

(_Scene Change; Scoutmaster Lumpus's office_)

Slinkman couldn't have imagined a more crazier scene. Or, if he could, none came close to what he was seeing.

A good number of papers were sitting on the floor in a messy pile, including some of the Scoutmaster's necessities. Lumpus had probably crashed on the floor, with just two legs hanging out visibly over the table counter. The addition was the arrangement of ink blots on the table, coffee mug, and... a picture of himself he sent to the selfish moron on his birthday.

"Uh... sir? Hmm?" Slinkman hadn't even noticed it; there was someone sitting in front of the desk. He continued regardless. "You all right? Should I introduce the new camper now?" This sort of accident or ridiculous setting was not unnatural. It happened more times than Slinkman could count. Finally after an awkward silence, the semi-apathetic brown moose pulled himself up off the floor, coughing twice. "What were you _doing_...?!"

"I was trying to sign this little menace- I MEAN, Camper's name on the roster! Ah, yes. Then... something happened with the Pen and-"

Slinkman interrupted him. "N-never mind, sir. Everything's in order for the assembly. You want me to go ahead and start it?"

"Yeah, whatever, just hurry up! It's almost lunch time and I REALLY want to get to my Chicken Pot Pie!"

"Sir, this is kind of important," Slinkman tried reminding him.

"MY Chicken Pot Pie IS important!!" Lumpus yelled back. Slinkman wondered if he'd been crazy to argue. "That's _not _what I'm talking about, sir." "WELL IT SHOULD BE!" "Sir, is _really _necessary to be shouting?" "What are you TALKING about?" Slinkman narrowed his eyes. "I mean in front of the new camper!"

"Oh yeah, little what's-his-face!"

"... Do you even know who I'm talking about?"

"No I don't, why?"

"...ugh!"

"Look, you've done it HUNDREDS of times, what do you need me for?" Lumpus yelled promptly ending the conversation. The moose handed him a stencil board with a list of names in alphabetized order, before walking out the door. Slinkman looked it over, making several mental criticisms about a few spelling errors. Without really staring up he said to the kid sitting the chair, "Okay, um... you ready for a super-fantastic summer?" He tried sounding cheerful in the way he said it, because he remembered being told how dull and monotone he sounded.

"Yeah. I'm ready."

_Hmmm? Sounds kind of cynical and morose... eh, I'm sure he'll warm up to the other campers and make plenty of friends. "_Good," Slinkman smiled earnestly. "You'll get a very warm recession from the Kidney Beans. In fact, your Cabin has already been assigned. Follow me this way."

All Slinkman heard was the sound of two feet shuffling along the floor. He hadn't had a good look at the camper yet; although he wondered if that shy response he got earlier was only because he was very shy himself. He continued thinking about this as he pushed open the double doors of the Mess Hall, surprising all of the resident Campers awaiting inside.

* * *

(_Scene Change; Mess Hall_)

All of the campers had arrived. By the time they realized it, it came a little late. Slinkman's entrance received few stares... they didn't think about the slug that much, because he was seen a lot around Camp Kidney. Really, most of their stares were focused on the new camper in a blue short-sleeve shirt walking behind Slinkman. Slinkman motioned with his hand for the camper to take a seat... right at the front row next to the trio from Jelly Cabin.

Slinkman walked up to the to mike and tapped it twice to test and spoke: "Attention campers. Thank you all for attending the yearly admittance ceremony for a new Kidney Camper. I can gladly say that _this _year should really be a kick. We've got a lot of inventive Camp Activities all planned out for the rest of the summer, as dictated by our pre-mandated Camp Kidney Rulebook," said the slug as he held up a book. Naturally this provoked another aggravated sigh out of most of the Kidney Beans, minus the "Delinquents" from Jelly Cabin. Edward didn't flinch or bat an eye or act like he was interested; really it was just sad that the Camp doorstop was going through with this. It was a complete repeat of previous years Ed remembered (_Before _Lazlo, Raj, and Clam came along), but they weren't happy ones. Mostly because some of those Summer Camp adventures were riddled with delinquent older brothers.

As usual Slinkman didn't notice, and he continued, motioning towards the mysterious kid in the seat. Meanwhile at the front, the Jellies were so focused on Slinkman's speech, more pumped than ever for another fun and adventurous summer, they hadn't been aware of the camper sitting practically next to them!

"Oh....! New Camper! How's it going?" Lazlo gave a big smile with his cheerful greeting. The camper didn't respond.

"Maybe he is a very shy person..." said Raj cautiously. And he didn't blame him- when Raj came to camp for the very first time, he knew practically nothing about camp, or how to have _fun_. That and Raj mistook Clam for a bus attendant, how silly was _he! _Raj already sympathized with the new camper, whomever he was. Raj stared back at Clam and... he was partly unreadable. But he could already tell that Clam felt the same way as he did.

Slinkman continued his speech. "I think that a new camper here is another great opportunity to show him how awesome and adventurous it'd be-!"

"WOOHOO!" yelled Lazlo.

"I'd BE," Slinkman sternly pressed continued. "To be here at grand old Camp Kidney! So without further ado, would the camper like to introduce himself?"

"FINALLY!!" Edward snarled. He heard _fake_ accented radio talk show hosts that sounded more full of life than the Scoutmaster's attendant. But despite his rancor, now Edward was at the point of falling off his chair, persistently interested in this whole clamour about the new camper.

And, it seemed like all the campers were interested as well. They watched carefully as the new camper casually got up from his seat and walked up to the microphone, and Slinkman stepped back a few times for room. Now everyone got a good look at the new camper for themselves.

It was a small brown wolf. His eyes were close to where his his snout began. His arms were laid back, and his tail was furry and curved at the tuff. His eyes were dark onyx colored, ruminating with a strange lure none of the Campers had never _seen _before. And he looked very pale, though you couldn't tell right away. You had to have been staring at his face for a long period of time till you could firmly grasp that image. He seemed very sheltered, or they thought that maybe he _was _some kind of shell with something _trapped _inside, behind those deep onyx eyes, waiting to get out. While everyone else suddenly got cold feet, Lazlo and the Jellies were unaffected. There was something really strange about this wolf, but that must have been in their imaginations, right? They were so eager to know more about this kid that they were taken aback when he said his name.

The wolf smiled and showed a fine set of Wolf teeth. "Hi, everyone," he said for the first time. "_My _name is Maion. Maion Anael Paschar."

* * *

**NC: Magic Medicine**

**Trivia: "Maion" is an Angelic name for "Angel of Self-Discipline". "Paschar" is "Angel of Vision". The middle initial "Anael" is a different translation of "Haniel", and that is Greek for "Grace of God". **


	7. Magic Medicine

Bitch Please.

* * *

**Previously:**

_In Camp Kidney and Acorn Flats, excitement seems to be building up over two new campers. Everyone's equally excited about the upcoming tri-athelon tournament, the traditional and yearly competition between beans and squirrels. But like every year, the Beans usually lose. There is less enthusiasm with the Beans over the tournament than with the squirrels, who take great joy in humiliating the Beans. But everyone has a feeling that this year might turn out to be different. In the midst of all this, Camp Kidney has a new visitor in it's ranks. And his name is Maion Paschar. Will this new camper's presence change the outcome of the upcoming tournament? _

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Wilt was standing with Ed and Coco, outside of... Mr. Herriman's office. Not like it was first time he did so; whenever a friend was told to wait outside, they had a doom cloud over their heads. Any friend caught in the act of breaking a rule, was sent to Mr. Herriman's office, and severely punished- so severe that a friend was forced to go without supper. Wilt was deathly afraid of it; no one wanted to be sent up to their room without supper. So he did as he was imagined by his kid; Wilt made it a habit to remember a broken rule led to punishment, and never so "No" against any of the rules. So many of Mr. H's rules were just inane, it spun around a lot of the friends' heads- if they had any. No one could much of anything around the house without breaking a rule. Wilt wondered just how many rules were probably going to be broken for doing... _this_.

"Bloo, are you sure this is _safe_?"

The answer from inside was muffed.

"Bloo?" Wilt called again.

Ed was still shivering. "Es muy malo! This is very bad! We shouldn't even be in here!"

No answer. Except the noise of a few items being tossed around, and soft thuds. Then Bloo's muffled, "Trying to find evidence!!"

Again, Wilt protested. "But, Bloo, there _isn't _any evidence of Mr. Herriman being an alien!"

The ruffling noises stopped abruptly, followed by Bloo sticking his head out the door and glaring at Wilt. "I"LL be the judge of that! Now you guys just stay here and keep guard!" Then he pulled his head back inside and more stuff started crashing down. Needless to say that Wilt, Ed, and Coco's fears tripled.

Bloo on the other hand was dead set. Enough that he disregarded any sense of discretion when pulling out all of Mr. H's drawers, full to the brim with papers. Bloo saw that a lot of these were adoption forms, release forms, and (where Bloo gagged) warrants to have "delinquent" friends expelled. A lot of these had Bloo's name on it, in full. "_Papers, papers, where are those freaking PAPERS!?! Aliens make contact with Government, Government secretly sanctions them, then they HIDE them, and in exchange they get super awesome ALIEN TECHNOLOGY!_" Or at least that was what he read out of the comic books- and they've never lied to him, not _ever_.

As Bloo furiously tore through more papers trying to reach the bottom, the party heard the doorbell ring, followed by dignified hops. Wilt yelled, "Herriman's coming!"

"Cocococococococo!"

All three dashed inside like their lives depended on it. Bloo didn't so much as bat a lid because he was too focused on finding that yellow slip describing the horrible Alien Autopsy Foster's so-called head had. Wilt's typical habit kicked in like clockwork; Ed helped him get up most of the papers off the floor. "Bloo I _told _you this wasn't a good idea!" cried Wilt.

In an uncharacteristic shine of genius, Bloo yelled, "Quick, _behind the door!_" But it quickly dawned on all four that the plan was ill-conceived. They ended up out of the wall-to-wall covering of rules like you couldn't imagine into a pearly white, orderly space... with toliet and makeshift shower and completing curtain. Ed let out a terrible whimper. "Thes es _el cuarto de bano de Senor Herriman!!!_"

"I'm sorry, Bloo, but he's right! No friend is ever, _ever _allowed in here. We should just leave and confess to sneaking around and-!" Sometimes Bloo wasn't sure he even knew Wilt. "Are you _crazy_?!" the blob hissed back. "Not only will he _punish us, he'll pull out his two alien pistols and vaporize us into VAPOR._ And I'm _NOT _losing this one and ONLY opportunity to get into Area 51's secret base at the center of the Medubla Triangle!"

Ed spun a finger towards Coco, a sign to indicate that as usual, Bloo's disposition against logic was standing pretty well. "Cococococococo!?" (Don't you mean "Bermuda Triangle, Medulla Oblongata, and Mojave Desert"?)

"That's what I _said!_" Bloo hissed back. "Now be quiet!" he said again, while he peered through the keyhole on Wilt's shoulders. Ed remained propped against the wall, too nervous to even let out a hoarse Spanish cry of trepidation. He had every right to.

Behind the door was silence.

They were still holding their breaths, and held on to them tightly as they heard their least favorite sound in the whole world: dignified hops following behind the open doors. Sure enough, Mr. Herriman had arrived. Ed couldn't stop his teeth chattering. A punishment beyond anything he could have imagined - and for being caught in Senor Herriman's private quarters! They were in for a nightmare. _A stern, cruel, boring nightmare! _Ed thought he was going to faint.

Bloo seemed unfazed; he continued staring intently at the keyhole, but he saw nothing; instead, he put the side of his head to the keyhole, and waited. "Shhh..." he said to the other three. "I hear... voices," he paused. _Two _voices. If the idea of punishment, no supper and his beloved paddleball wrought from his blobby hands for another agonizing month didn't daunt Bloo's confidence, it did _now_.

Bloo wondered; Did Frankie come back from the store already? _Bad new_s for him, and especially _him _and not the others, if yes. Bad enough _Stuffy-rules-and-Nonsense_ was sitting at his desk, possibly looking for the alien ray gun- but Frankie was, from Bloo's perspective, an extension of Herriman's fun-taking sweep. She _would _jump at the chance of sending Bloo out of the house: _not good!_

And she was just as boring and "un-fun" as _Herriman _was! Maybe... _she was an alien as WELL!! _It didn't sound impossible; Bloo couldn't rule out that possibility...

While he was thinking this, he was surprised to hear, for certain, Mr. Herriman's voice speaking to another... but the second voice didn't sound like Frankie's at all. Or _wasn't _it?

(_oooh cool... love house... s..... funny... wuld lik summm fooooodh.... nice chapt... ooh papurrss neeeet_)

_What the heck!?_ Bloo thought, or screamed, in his head. _Is that supposed to be Frankie?_ _She sounds like she got sick and then swallowed a giant tablet of stupid! _At this he came close to laughing, but he stifled it down.

"... Hey, Bloo? Hear anything?" a stable Wilt whispered quietly. He was beginning to wane under Bloo's weight, which wasn't very heavy at all. He had no idea what was going on; he even thought he heard Bloo laughing. Other than that, he was doing fine. And he was surprised they could keep quiet for this long.

"Quiet!" Bloo whispered harshly back. Wondering if he had committed any fault of some sort, Wilt let out a dejected "Sorry" and kept staring back at the pristine floor. Ed and Coco felt ancillary to the going ons, and kept quiet.

Bloo's lack of patience and short attention span kicked into high gear. One eye turned to the black opening- he wouldn't see alot due to the key's narrow opening, but compared to a giant staring down an anthole, this was better than nothing. Through the opening, he saw Mr. Herriman's hands fly through the drawer he previously went out of his way "investigating", looking for something. Part of his face was bent over, exposing a monocle and whiskers. Compared with earlier, Bloo's claims about his "hidden identity" were rebuffed; he looked absolutely normal. (As about as normal as imaginaries like Mr. Herriman can get.)

* * *

"Well then," went the amicable Head of Foster's, pulling out his adoption sheet form- amazingly poised on top of pillar of paper, by the heavens, and _right _when he needed it -and dipped a pen in a thumb cap of ink. "it is truly sad when a child leaves his or her imaginary friend on the doorstep of Foster's without even introducing themselves- but alas I'm certain you will be a welcome addition to Foster's ranks, if but only for a moment."

It was business as usual, and, though he'd never admit it out loud, his pride swelled. Business he truly loved, and paperwork his soulmate; he was in a positive mood. Since giving Frankie her list of chores, he hadn't heard a word complaint out of her, and Master Blooregard hadn't so much as made any attempt at making shenanigans. It was seldom a peace Foster's ever had in a while. Although, far be it for Mr. Herriman to quell that meddlesome voice saying that he buying into a delusion, and it could've been shattered any minute. But he decided that unlike what he was doing right now, it was unimportant.

This routine, keeping records of all the comings and goings of all imaginaries, was trite, humdrum, and organized; the best sorts of things he enjoyed. The House, himself, sanitation staff (a certain Francis Foster who should've been back by _now_, whom he reminded himself to instruct to clean up the 3rd floor bathrooms once more) and of course, the delightful myriad of rule-abiding friends have seen more than its' fair share of imaginary friends, sized and of all kinds of shapes. Today's was no different. She, an imaginary, had a peculiar appearance- a giant metal white head with a yellow nose dipping down, like what she did with her head.

"So _then... _"

(_ "Hello? This is Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends, how may I be of assistance? Oh, and forgive me, but our resident caretaker left several minutes ago to retrieve her things, that lazy girl. I assure you, good help is very rare around here on such days. Now, as I was saying, are you a friend who is looking for a temporary home till you can be adopted?" She had a metallic head angled down, and her eyes were narrow. The ears seemed like those of a fox, but... they also looked like a set of plastic ears- the kind that little children waste valuable time with to dress like an animal. The rest of her form was strikingly human; She wore outlandish clothing you'd see in eastern countries, a bushy wolf tail, and her hands were covered in all fur. If it were a normal human who answered the door and not him, they might as well have thought it was some deranged trick-r-treater. No. 5 decades as President of Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends, and Mr. Herriman knew an imaginary friend when he saw one. The trouble was that she looked like something straight out of those infernal new kids' shows. The only thing weird about any of this was that this fine figment was standing at the door without its' creator. It was a shame. Mr. Herriman didn't take this job without arming himself with a little knowledge; he knew that at some point, children leave behind their friends. No exceptions. _)

( _"... LOBOOOOO!!!" _)

( _"... I beg your pardon?" _)

( _"namu namu... mooooooooooooooofal... mu. LOBOOO!!" squarked the strange imaginary._ )

( _Saying he was stunned was an understatement; but he collected himself and calmly tried thinking it over. Most friends would make their imaginary unable to speak english. A child's range of mental activity acted as the variable in their creation; not every child, not like his own, could develop enough to make that possible. It was a tiring fact, but Mr. Herriman was used to it. _)

(_ "I... uh, don't understand what it is you're saying." _)

(_ This imaginary seemed absent-minded. Her manner of speaking was strange, and she kept twitching her head every couple of seconds; she even turned her entire body around like somebody jumped at her from behind. Mr. Herriman thought that was rude- and he had no time for this! He had many important papers to file and organize, not deal with an imaginary that clearly had a speech impediment. He had to speed this along, quickly. "Would you or would you not like to come inside?" _)

( _The Japanese-or-such-nonsense imaginary twirled back and cocked curious, almost _suggestive _eyes at the imaginary rabbit. "Ohreallysweet cool troo," she said incredibly fast. "Mega... bUNNNIIIIIEEEE!!!... cotsiewootsie_" )

(_ Okay, now he really couldn't follow any of that. Whomever her creator was, he or she must clearly have dislexia or such a horrible throat condition if this particular imaginary friend came out speaking this way. He couldn't understand her at all. But protocol dominated Mr. Herriman like a habit, so when he spoke, he remembered the proper tone to address a lady. This imaginary was a lady, he reminded himself. A lady was treated with ABSOLUTE respect. "Miss? Excuse me, Miss? Though it'd be too much trouble, I can't immediately accept you into this house unless I have proper form of identification. Er... What is your name?" _)

( _The imaginary kept staring at him; Mr. Herriman wondered if she had been listening at all. If not, how infuriat- no. He was restrained in every manner, so even though most of his time was wasted, he had to be patient. The imaginary kept staring at him so strangely, though, that some nameless feeling made him unable to remain fully composed. _)

( _"My NAAAAAAAAAAMMMMmmmmmm oooooooo-!" _)

( _"P-Please, I simply insist that you just give me your name.... !" _)

( _"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel naaaamu iiieeeeeeeesss_" _An abrupt pause came, making Mr. Herriman grate his teeth. "PPFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTT -----" _)

"... Miss, er, **Falconlobo**."

"YAAAAY-ness," said the wolf/metal/humanoid imaginary friend in ghastly cheerfulness. "Cool wai troo ad totatlly wecked addaddddndndndndnnnnnn-YAAAH! G-gooooo-TII FooOD!"

_She's absolutely random and speaks nonsensical gibberish, my heavens, _Mr. Herriman was thinking. _And her seating and conduct's like watching a 3-year-old. She is the epitome of improper behavior, and she doesn't act like any female-gendered imaginary friend we've seen yet._

If you could call her having her back bent over and foward, her arms propped up together like a pair of stilts, legs as malleable as a bending straw- her paws directed forward with her feet, and her eyes were stoic slits, as "Improper". But Mr. Herriman wasn't all that worried about questioning her. But... he had never seen any imaginary friend look so incredibly focused. She was sitting like a... like a _gargoyle_. Manners first, and then he would explain all the rules and regulations later, once she was settled.

"Ah yes, it's quite a shame when an imaginary is abandoned and left to fend for itself, but rest assured, you'll be most likely adopted by another kid within a few days. And I must say, Miss Falconlobo, you're quite a sight that I'm sure you'll most definitely draw the attention of many potential adopters," Mr. Herriman said, not holding back any blows. He remembered how often he had imaginaries in his office who immediately and rudely responded with a denial, making settling in new additions a strained process. Falconlobo, however, didn't say anything. Things seemed to be going pretty smoothly. "But for now," he said, "I believe it's imperative that we go over the rules and regulations of living in this house, and every punishment that accompanies each violation."

"Ah shoo prease toobee bgt san uou," the bizzare figment responded, bopping her head up and down. Mr. Herriman remained confused, trying his best to brush off the genuine tomfoolery he was hearing. After a moment, Mr. Herriman rose from his chair and hopped over to the bookshelf. He thought he heard Falconlobo humming, or maybe that was just his imagination.

It took him a few minutes, but he found the book he was looking for; A hefty volume titled, "_Rules, Rules, and regulations to Follow In Order to have a Successful living_". Mr. Herriman wrote it himself, and it was ultimately the most reliable source there ever was. Out of protocol, the imaginary rabbit bristled a little with excitement. He _couldn't _wait to explain these rules-

That tinge of excitement froze quietly inside, once he sensed something... off. As he turned around, he was surprised to see that the not-so-behemoth anthromorph was standing right behind him. Rude, he was going to say. Was, because he asked her to stay in that chair exactly. What _exactly _was she doing? Well, Mr. Herriman was going to find out. "I beg your pardon, but, _what _are you doing out of your seat?"

The newest house resident didn't say anything and tilted her head in a strange way. Her yellow eyes were squinting in and out. Something about that was irking the imaginary rabbit - and as much as he hated admitting it, there wasn't any rule against doing that. "Ah, um, yes, of course. Well, please have a seat so we can continue."

Not paying her any mind at all, Mr. Herriman proceeded back to his seat, unaware that Falconlobo was still standing in the same exact spot staring listlessly into nothing. "Now then," he continued, staring down at the book he selected, pulling back the cover of the heavy tome. (Which was a little dusty, he was going to have Ms. Francis dust it off later) "This house has a strict guideline of rules you _will _be following," he said sternly, "Up to _every last little detail. Failure to uphold, dictate to memory,_ and _equate to absolute importance _any these clear indications of regulation around the household, and _there will be consequences_."

Preoccupied with his expounding on the rules, Mr. Herriman caught his breath when he was finished. When he turned he saw that Falconlobo was still standing in the same spot, making the imaginary feel completely ancillary. He wondered if he done something wrong; impossible! _She _was the one being rude by not having any manners and sitting down.

"Miss Falconlobo...?"

Regardless of what he said, she still kept staring off into nothing. He may not have been entirely sure about her behavior, but Mr. Herriman held a strong intolerance for ill-mannered imaginaries and their ridiculous quirks. His ire was reaching a point where enough was enough.

"Miss Falconlobo, will you _please take your seat?_ I won't continue if you persist in standing there!"

Again, she showed no sign that she heard him.

Finally Mr. Herriman bellowed, "_Miss Falconlobo!_ _I will not ask you again, please take your seat at once-!_"

"_**SWWEEAAAAAAAAAAA-it!!!!!!!!!!!!**_" garbled the wolf/metal/humanoid in an abrupt, disturbing cry. This badly startled the stuffy, no-nonsense imaginary friend. But what wrong did _he _do? All he told her to do was take a seat. "What is the meaning of this?" Mr. Herriman roared in anger as he recovered. He had to deal with a number of troublemakers, (Bloo included) but this was crossing the line. "Screaming is _absolutely NOT tolerated in this HOUSE!!! You are NOT starting out with a very good record young lady!!" _

He didn't predict what would happen next. She starting walking stiffly and vehemently over to him. Mr. Herriman was caught off guard, and pushed against his desk in panic; papers and such flew off the desk, and _she _started pushing off more. 'LIKEEE!!?" she snarled. Another enraged protest escaped Mr. Herriman's lips, but now she was too busy running over to a bookshelf and pushing down books, and creating a mess to hear. When that didn't seem to satisfy her, both her eyes turned to angry slits and ran straight back to Mr. Herriman, pinning him down on the floor. "OOF!!" he let out in an anguish- he was furious enough that she disobeyed him, but the rage boiling beneath his black jacket was over the destruction she was causing.

She towered over him- he hadn't noticed it before, but she was taller than she let on -and Mr. Herriman saw that same suggestive glint in his eyes he'd only seen once. She leaned in close: the imaginary rabbit's weary eyes were wide open, not at all appreciating what was happening. However his inner voice kept screaming to not to abandon sense of reason for a second. She leaned down even further, to his ear, and shouted in a hoarse, understandable voice:

"_FIIIIIIIIIIINEH!!! I'LL TAKE ZE SHAAAAAAAAAR!!!_"

Although his ears were ringing with spectacular pain, Mr. Herriman couldn't stop his ongoing remark of, " "_Share_?" That's pronounced _Chair, _learn your diction-! OOF!!" Again, Falconlobo pushed Mr. Herriman hard down on the floor. The head of Business affair's eyes were wide open in incredible panic.

Out of nowhere, she did something that made his mouth fall open. She pulled out of Mr. Herriman's range and snatched the left handle of the chair. Clutching on them tightly, Falconlobo lifted the tall seat with spectacular ease. At this point it was easy to say that Mr. Herriman was frightened out of his wits; but the only thing that came out of his mouth was, "_W-what the blazes!? M-Miss Falconlobo I insist that you stop your inappropriate behavior! P-put down that chair, that's PUBLIC PROPERTY!!_" His voice was now reaching high-pitched levels, only because his neck got swelteringly hot from enduring the havoc this house "Guest" was creating. Mr. Herriman closed his eyes and out of panic covered both with his pearly white gloves...

But nothing happened.

Assuming it was safe, Mr. Herriman made several mental notes, the first and foremost that the imaginary calling herself Falconlobo was clearly dangerous, ill-mannered, and completely _unpredictable. _As he opened his eyes, his ire didn't come close to matching his shock; he found himself alone in the office. And the chair was missing. _Did that Miss leave? _He had made the mistake of thinking her an ordinary imaginary, but she was just an unpredictable menace. As he got his breath back, he wondered if he should leave this with somebody else... but where _was _anybody else? Where was Miss Francis?

"Goodness... MISS FRANCIS!" he called for his employee. It took him a minute of unanswered silence before he called again. "Miss Francis!!!" There wasn't any answer, till he remembered that she had already left on the Foster's Bus. That was horrible timing: _he _hadn't authorized her to go out for anything today. He made sure to remember punishing her later for lollygagging when she was _supposed _to have been doing chores.

But what was he to do? He couldn't just pursue her himself!

But, his common sense argued, she'd clearly stolen a piece of private property out of his office, and he couldn't replace it. And she couldn't have gotten very far with it. Not doing anything about this insane young lady now would result in more accidents. He didn't have time to debate this; he'd have to go after her himself. And when he found her, he'd administer punishment.

With that settled, he didn't waste another second hopping madly out of his office. As he closed the door, a loud _crash _came from behind, one which he was out of earshot to hear. The whole party of 4 disoriented, confused imaginaries stared at the empty, trashed room in unthinkable disarray.

Bloo whistled, glancing over the entire scene. He was doubly thankful that whatever happened, (He and the other three were not completely aware of the true story) it was the perfect distraction for Mr. Herriman. But... his mind chilled. Whomever this "Falconlobo" was, she was some crazy kind of Bold- Bold enough to do what Bloo dreamed of doing a _lot_, and that was get away with trashing Herriman's office, with the very likeness of that stuffy rules and nonsense sitting in there as he _did! _There wasn't any friend dumb enough, or _stupid _enough (Bloo retracted that thought after a while) to think they could get away with that. Had he known this Falconlobo was _that _kind of imaginary friend... oh, man... Bloo felt color rushing to his cheeks!

But still... Bloo knew for a fact that he heard Mr. Herriman yelling. Yelling like something bad was in the works. What exactly did that imaginary friend do to make _that_ happen? (Sure in the past, Bloo did a number of insane things that would've easily had him kicked out of the house, and to jail- which wasn't all that bad, actually) The tone of his shrieks were petrifying.

Bloo turned around and said in a bewildered voice, "What the heck just happened?"

* * *

(_Scene Change; 3rd floor hallway_)

There was no way Mr. Herriman could ignore the griminess of side to side walling of the hallway; there was actually a microscopic half-inch of it just resting there on the floor. To any one normal person, it would've seemed invisible. But nothing escaped Mr. Herriman's trained eye; what an UNGODLY, disgusting sight! But as urgent as that was, it paled with the _real _pressing matter at hand.

"I will find you and you will be punished for the racket you're causing! _Miss Falconlobo?_" the Head of Business ducked a head inside one of the rooms. There was nobody inside. In several other rooms he saw other imaginary friends reading, or watching television, or whatever- honestly they didn't have _anything _more stimulating to do? He may have had to make a new rule barring such slothful behavior out.

He tried calling "Falconlobo's" name multiple times, as he hopped around the same hallway multiple times. There was no response. Then after going up the next set of stairs at the end, there was a surprise: he had seen her ducking behind into the east wing. He had a strange feeling that Falconlobo was hiding and expecting him-

_Hmm. What an odd thing to think. No. I must press on, I will apprehend that friend and retrieve the chair, and as soon as Ms. Frances returns, I'll punish her immediately for leaving without my giving her permission. _

But while he was thinking this, another thought suddenly reared it's ugly head; it happened as he rounded a left corner in the east wing. There weren't any doors leading to any rooms in this hallway, other than an empty room. Beyond that was a dead end with a window overlooking the backyard.

"Miss Falconlobo...?" he yelled. Mr. Herriman looked around twice, thinking that it might not have been a good idea to try and pursue the batty imaginary friend. But he had to. He couldn't let such a rude sociopath run rampant around the house; nobody else was aware of how insane she was.

What if she had run into the Madam? What if she attempted to (Mr. Herriman gulped _hard_)... _hurt _her? If she did... Mr. Herriman's heartbeat increased as he couldn't bear to think of what would _happen... _

- _boink boink _-

He almost snapped, for someone tapped on his shoulder, snapping him out of his panicking horror. "For goodness sake, who is-?" that fear swallowed him as his head turned- she was standing right behind him, arms folded behind her back. She was... leering at him with a sharp, wiggling grin past the protruding nose-beak. Already Mr. Herriman felt like his legs (and his confidence) were jelly. He was wildly floundering how the devil she could've gotten past him- _oh what difference did it really make now? Confound it! She's out of control, and does not listen to me! What am I going to do? _At this point, logic and reason failed the Head of Foster's, who was now literally being backed into a corner.

She was leaning in, like a cat waiting to pounce on the mouse; his arms were shaking. She noticed, because she said in a dark, threatening tone, "_SHAAAKY Bunnny. Saaaaad caause your e a KE-uuuuute BUUNN-EYE!!!_"

Surely she didn't expect _him _to understand what she just said. But that didn't make the Head any less afraid for his life. Being pressed back towards the window, Mr. Herriman's whole body was vibrating like a phone receiver.

Instead of coming closer to him, but still holding that twisted grin on her face, Falconlobo held out one of her furry paws and formed it into a pointing finger. Having no idea what was to happen, Mr. Herriman tensed up like was about to be suddenly violated; but whatever horrific torture he imagined, nothing startled him more than the humanoid imaginary _lightly_ and _swiftly... _touched his nose.

Silence hung in the air like a putrid stench. This was as good a point as any for Mr. Herriman to let out a blood-curtling scream as he jolted, terrified beyond reason. He looked like he would've hit the ceiling and his noodle arms flailing.

Falconlobo's expression was unreadable; in a first cleanly legible sentence she replied to a collapsed Herriman, "You don't LOoooOK _well- _I GIVE YOU **MAGIC**. Med. Ic. Ine. GAVE! GIVEN." Falconlobo's change in expression was a shocking feat; she looked so incredibly relaxed, compared to her hideous mix of stoneface and sheer intimidation. All Mr. Herriman could manage to bellow out in angry confusion, "W-What!? What on _Earth - !?_"

"I give YOU sWeet, Sweet, MEDICINE!" Falconlobo burst out yelling with disturbing glee. "BUH BYE!!"

"W-What are YOU -!?"

_CRASH!!_

The window now had a jagged ugly opening at the center. Glass bits broke off and fell on the floor. A distant thud was heard out in the open wild yonder; wind kept whistling through the window after she had gone. Once he stopped shrinking away in terror all Mr. Herriman could do was look up at the broken window in stunned silence. His mouth continued to hang open, as if it had simply fell off his face.

_This is a very awful dream... that's what this was, _he kept thinking rapidly, his mind already in cold sweat. But the more he kept staring at the naked sky past the broken glass, the more he knew that terrible experience wasn't a phony daymare.

While he continued staring at the empty space, the door on his right opened, and out stepped a very hazy lanky caretaker, who looked she had awoken from a massive nap.

"Miss Frances!?" shouted Mr. Herriman, automatically ushering himself back on his feet. Automatically he had forgotten anything about Falconlobo, or the broken window. He was flippantly confused. "What is the MEANING of this!?" he roared.

Frankie continued staring at her employer, looking oblivious to her employers' rage. "When did you get back here? And what were you doing that room?" He asked.

"Uh... I... "

He was baffled; what he heard was clearly not a legitimate answer (but still looking for a reason to shut the events of the past hour and the lunatic imaginary friend). "Oh, never mind! I need you to make several calls to the constable, because we have a maniac imaginary friend on the loose. She's _crazy_, and obviously homicidal."

Frankie didn't respond, making her employer wonder what happened. For a moment, the two shared an awkward stare before the Foster's President continued regardless.

"Since you've returned from whatever task you had, I expect your chores to be finished. The gasoline you wasted will come out of your pay, and you will not be allowed to rest for the next day. I expect to you put the house back into tip-top shape and for you to scrub the foyer floor immediately as punishment," Mr. Herriman said quickly and anally like nothing had happened, and then without waiting for her response, he turned and hopped away for the foyer.

Meanwhile, Frankie continued fazing the wall in front of her with a moronic stare. Mr. Herriman hadn't noticed, but Frankie looked like she'd woken up from a not-so-favourable dream.

"I... ah... how did I... get here...?" Frankie's eyes went wide with horror before she collapsed. "Ah! I... I WAS...!!"

* * *

(_Scene Change_ )

_What insanity...!_ Mr. Herriman kept thinking, even as he rounded another corner and reached the stairs. _That's what it IS... pure insanity! _

_KNOCK KNOCK_

"Oh, goodness gracious, what now!?" he roared as he hopped down the stairs to the source of the second knock. Surely that Falconlobo didn't come back... did she? As he reached for the handle He kept going with the thought he had earlier. _This is insanity. Those "dreams" I had of me and... Miss Frances, the nightmares, and now that whole mess with that nonsensical, psychotic imaginary friend- Oh! Whatever am I thinking? I'll NOT let this boulderdash worry me out of my wits!_

That's what he told himself, but he realized how badly he was lying to himself when he started fumbling with the door handle. _Oh confound it!! _Too busy with door handle and the incessant knocking turning into banging, he didn't notice when Bloo, Wilt, Ed, and Coco sneaked out of his office and ran for their lives upstairs. They were now out of earshot of any of the events happening in the foyer.

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_

_"Good Gracious, have some patience!! I'm about to open the door!_" he'd already locked the door earlier after letting Falconlobo in earlier. The door handle wouldn't budge, but he slapped himself in rage for just remembering: he had the keys in his coat pocket. So he pulled them out and shoved the handle into the door. A second later, a click tolled, indicating the door was unlocked.

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_

Morally messed up remembering the circumstances of his last meeting, Mr. Herriman was in no mood to deal with whatever trite ruffian was standing at the door. He wondered if maybe it was Falconlobo, but now he dreading that possibility; he chided himself for thinking it. It might not have been that lunatic, for he doubted she'd just come back after that small-scale _catastrophe_. They might not have been that important, and were probably nothing more than unsolicited meddlers and or those blasted kids throwing things at the house- nothing would've enraged Mr. Herriman even more. "If it's any ridiculous product you want to sell," he yelled, "Then I should let you in advance we _aren't _interested- What the blazes?"

Squeezing the handle and pulling both doors wide open, the Head of Business affairs had only a few seconds of good vision. His good vision failed after seeing an unknown and threatening-looking stranger before his world was flipped upside down- and quite literally, as his head met the foot of the stairs in with a painful shock.

_CRASH!_

About halfway his monocle was tossed up into the air, and cracked like broken china. Some of the pieces fell by his feet. It all happened in a flash. As for the actual eye that was covered by it, it was covered in purple... just a _tinge_. throbbing and bleeding. He mumbled incoherently for a few seconds about something involving reaching for the phone. He didn't have any anger in him now for being inconvenienced.

Once the white shock in his still working other eye started to slowly wear off, it wandered lazily and frightened in the direction of where he was just standing. Right in place of where he stood a moment ago, hanging in the air, was a black-gloved, leather fist.

"Selling things?" Mr. Herriman faintly heard someone say in a flat, embarrassed tone. "Nah... I don't actually sell jack shit."

Still a black silhouette from the bloody-eyed, vulnerable imaginary friend's perspective, Mr. Herriman obeyed an inside instinct that kept telling him urgently, _get up! Get up at once!_ The black silhouette was coming closer. And getting clearer. He was having a horrible time catching his breath.

It was tall man with grey hair, and he had hard, dead eyes that looked like they were going to dance with glee. He reached out his arm and grabbed the shivering and bleeding imaginary friend by the neck. His mouth was fixed in a relentless grin that seemed to say for itself, 'You're going to die. Hard luck.'

"Hey, sir?" asked the stranger in an egotistic, acrid voice, "You uh... haven't seen some idiot named Falconlobo? Now tell me quick, cause I've got to kill her quickly, ya know?" Unfortunately, Mr. Herriman had been struck with such horror that he couldn't speak no more than a syllable. "W-What?!" That, and the searing pain from his bleeding eye was all he could think about, the only reason he started crying.

"You're... not going to speak?" said the hard-eyed psychopath. "H-Hey! Are you crying? Like a Gay? Ah man... ... Bummer. Well, whatever, dipshit."

The poor rabbit, shivering and weeping at the same time, thought the stranger crazy, but still had no strength to actually try and do anything about it. At the very least, this boorish, curt killer could've given his name, but that was probably asking for too much. And... such _spectacular _strength... horror set in at extreme levels when the man reached for his arm while still holding Mr. Herriman lightly above the floor.

"Oh! Do you want my name? It's uh, Dualsphere. And now I'm going to break your arm."

A million things darted into Mr. Herriman's narrow skull, all of them crippling shouts, cries, and shrieks of ugly protest, none of which he could properly voice. Dualsphere, or as he called himself, stretched out the left arm before he stretched to the point where Mr. Herriman opened his mouth to cry out in pain.

_Someone... anyone... help...!! _But it was no use screaming like that in his head. His head felt like it was full of helium, and the villain was making it hard for him to breathe.

"AAAAAAh!" went Dualsphere as well, "Don't scream like that, man! I can't fully enjoy myself if _you're _screaming!" Mr. Herriman saw a flash of a tongue, a flicker, run over Dualsphere's sadistic, nasty grin.

_RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP_

Mr. Herriman's eyes, both of them, had gone stiff. His ears wouldn't stop ringing. His vision, because how his eyes stiffened, sharpened, before being swallowed up in a watery lens; he could easily see the smiling face of Dualsphere just staring back at him with patient glee. All of Mr. Herriman's receptors could up one thing: mind-splitting agony.

The stub where his left arm originally was let loose an ocean of blood down like a waterfall. The floor turned into a bloody pond.

Dualsphere stopped marvelling in the massacre he caused, and looked down. His face sported such a disgusting twist; he said, "Oh man, you messed up my fucking shoes. Okay. Well, I've got to get going. Laters, BITCH!"

Dualsphere dropped the torn arm, then raised his hand, and out of nowhere a gun appeared. Mr. Herriman could do nothing but continue to stare on, lifeless.

_BOOM BOOM BOOM_

Once Dualsphere decided to let go of the neck_, _It was more or less finished. Mr. Herriman's body fell with a _plop_ in the small pool of red.

Dualsphere let out a snide laugh, then in a strange light he was already gone. "O-ho-ho-ho-holy SHIT, you look SWEET with all that blood. You know, for a gay-ass figment. Really, you should go.. uh... fornicatch-I MEAN, ah FUCK it, AAHHHH. _Screw this bullshit!_ I'm going to go somewhere else!"

"Input code: **000.... **Okay. I'm off." The voice faded into nothing.

The imaginary rabbit's attached arm still twitched. The color in his eyes drained. But even after everything, the madness of Falconlobo, those weird dreams, the mind-splitting pain and horrific eye scar, and the foyer ceiling and sparkling chandelier hanging overhead now fading away into a blackness, the last thing to come to Mr. Herriman's mind was:

_Your language is... atrocious... young man... learn to control your tongue!_

Mr. Herriman died still confused.

**-** **Pause -**

**- Save and Quit?**

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**NC: Magic Card Trick**

**Really would help if there were other people reading the fanfic, but unfortunately, I have 3 projects due in the next 5 days. Kind of thrilling, actually. I'll see you around. Till then...**


	8. Magic Card Trick

**A/N: I was surprised when I recieved an e-mail... recently, from a certain someone about how I put them into a story. **

**To that certain someone I'd like to make the following statement: **

**"Yep." **

**Also, my writing su- I think that my writing is great. I will NOT say my Writing sucks anymore. Yes. My writing is my own unique style, and draws on my own imaginations. **

**Like I hadn't learned that already!**

**-**

**- Project RE: B0 -**

**_ New Game _**** Load**

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_Previously:_

_- In the wake of past weeks having strange dreams of Romance with Francis "Frankie" Foster, Mr. Herriman, head of Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, attempted to push all of that utter ridiculousness aside, and just have a normal day for once. _

_But "normal" wasn't in the agenda. 2 visitors ended up meeting Mr. Herriman at separate periods: Falconlobo, an outlandish and insane female imaginary friend terrorized his office before running away- via crashing out of the house by window. Then just when he thought things would go back to normal, a strange young man calling himself "Dualsphere" shows up out of nowhere (And from what he claims, he was "looking" for Falconlobo) and attacks Mr. Herriman before the Imaginary can respond in any way. Dualsphere casually kills Mr. Herriman in a matter of minutes before he disappears. Mr. Herriman is left alone, beyond the help of anyone in the house, bleeding to death. -_

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* * *

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(_unknown_)

He sat on his back and watched his favourite show, one that involved animals. three animals were troublemakers, but they didn't look like they were making any trouble. The others sometimes resented the three, simply because they didn't know how to have any fun.

One of the adults on the show disliked the fun-makers. They were just free-spirited and happy. They were so "out there" that they could have awesome adventures without even trying. Surely they were the "good" guys, and some other characters were the "Bad" guys. The "Bad" guys tried ruining the fun of the good ones. Somehow he wished the bad guys would actually win for once; the "bad" guys, however, weren't necessarily bad.

That kind of thinking existed in the crazed fantasies of the millions of fanatics and "spiritually" enlightened people worldwide.

They were just numb and irritated by the "good" guys; being there longer than the "Good" Guys, they had no idea what fun was like. It wasn't their fault. They were resigned. It brought a smile to his lips to think they accepted that was the way things were, in fact, with the absence of the "Good", you couldn't categorize the "Bad" as you think. There would be no differences - no shitty variations, and no principles of "Good" and "Evil". But no. There had to be a _change_. There had to be a dividing line.

It was another evening and all he could do was imagine what it would be like to waver behind both of those boundaries. What it would be like when sitting on that fence would gradually cause one to become that fence itself. And what it would be like to break that line.

* * *

"... and it's mandatory you keep all traces of "Nature" outside the camp. It's The uh, Scoutmaster's orders. But other than that you'll love it here."

"I don't mind. I think this is pretty cool."

"Well, that's good. You make fast friends with the Campers in no time!"

_Seems like he's taking this pretty well, _Slinkman decided. But it was going to some time before the Scoutmaster's Assistant could wrap his gelatinous head around the odd ethic of that name- "_Maion Paschar"? Is he Asian or something overseas? That's a pretty big distance!_

"Okay, and here we are."

They were standing in front of cabin, which Slinkman told him was the "Jelly Cabin". And from Maion's perspective, it looked sillier than its' name implied.

"This is jelly Cabin?" Maion asked. "Looks silly."

"Well your cabinmates will be just as uh," Slinkman paused, trying to find the right words. "Eccentric," he finished. "Let's go meet them."

Slinkman opened the door and the both of them, just as the three cabinmates inside stopped bouncing up and down on their beds.

"Slinkman!" They exclaimed excitedly. "You wanna play with us? We're playing "Elevator"!"

Slinkman laughed, and others faced relaxed. He shook his head. "No, I came by with the new camper."

Once it was out, Lazlo and the other two Jellies ceased "Elevator". All three crowded around the new camper excitedly. Since Raj was the most capable with expression, he greeted him first. "Hello, new fellow Camper! We never got the chance to say hello to you, this is absolutely cool that you're going to be bunking with us!"

"New Friend, new friend!" Clam chimed in, jumping up and down. The Wolf looked startled enough that he stepped back. "Oh... yeah. You're those guys, right? Jelly Bean?"

"Yeah!" said Lazlo, who was very happy to have a new cabinmate. "We're the Jelly Beans! I'm Lazlo!"

"And _I _am Raj!" Raj introduced himself. "You seem like the incredibly trustworthy type. Welcome to Jelly Cabin! And this is our friend, Clam!"

Raj threw the attention of Maion to Clam who stood off silently, which Raj thought was a little odd for some reason. Clam hestitantly stepped forward and offered an fvggggggbvaintroductory, "Hi!"

Maion's expression didn't seem to change. "Oh, wow. Well, nice to meet you, Mr. Clam."

Everyone present was surprised at such formality, and Lazlo let out a hardy laugh. "Oh, you don't have to call any of us "Mister"!"

"Sounds like something an Adult would say..." Raj said shortly, when his imagination piqued. "Hey... are you from an incredibly rich family?"

Maion stared a Raj with a weird look. "Nnn-no....?" he said tersely. "N-no, I'm not. We're uh... middle class."

"Well, come on! You can tell us all about you, while we play some games! You know how to play Elevator!"

Maion's face brightened, though he was still unsure. "I... guess that sounds like fun?"

_Wow, they are getting along pretty nicely_, Slinkman thought. "You know, Jelly Cabin," Slinkman said to Maion out loud, "... IS known for coming up with some crazy activities..."

"Yeah I know," the wolf said hastily. "I didn't get to say anything to you guys. Because I was too busy... being yelled at to keep nature outside the camp."

Slinkman's eyes narrowed a little nervously and he directed the conversation's focus. "Uh, say, since this little guy is going to be your fourth bunkmate, a new bed was in advance." They all saw that he was right. There was another bunk sitting in the bottom corner, near the large closet. Maion looked around uninterestedly. "Is there anything fun to do around here?" He said.

* * *

"..._Maion Paschar_? What kind of _stupid name is that!?_" said an angry Edward Platypus to his two bunkmates, Chip and Skip. Things were status quo as far the two's typical response of: "Sounds like Sun Land." "I bet he's into kung fu."

"What?" Edward roared back, now fuming with more rage than he could handle. He wasn't aware that maybe it was jealousy at work. Or, if he was, he didn't care. "That makes it all the more worse! I get stuck with you TWO dunderheads, and Lazlo and his little "Band" get a...."

* * *

"... Karate MASTER!?" Slinkman burst out screaming at his superior, nearly falling out of his seat. "Sir, how'd you come up with _that _idea?"

Lumpus waved a disappointed finger at Slinkman like a parent waves a finger when disciplining their child. "He's _Asian_, and he has a WEIRD name! That's all the proof I need. I'm NOT going to let some raggamuffin, SNOT-nosed little brat one up me."

Slinkman was sure there was something stupid about what Lumpus said, but kept his consul for his lack of backbone. As it turned out, the entire camp was already aflame with gossip about Maion Paschar; the banana slug was surprised news traveled _this _fast. "Sir," he started. "How could a kid know Karate? And _why _exactly are you making a big deal out of this?"

"In _all _my years of being Scoutmaster..." Lumpus began his tirade pacing worrisomely around his desk, "I have _never _seen a Camper with focus, dedication, and emphasis on enforcing all the rules I have set up, to keep this place working like a well-oiled machine."

Slinkman blinked. "Doesn't that sound like something Commander Hoo-hah would say, sir?"

"Well, he _is _an amazing motivational speaker," Lumpus added quietly. "In fact, I would like to say that I'm a true model after his own-!"

"Wait, that's EXACTLY what Commander Hoo-hah said, sir. He used that speech at the last Camp conference in 1995, talking about the Grand Poombah," Slinkman reminded him, setting off another of Lumpus's deflated stares.

"That's not important!" Lumpus retorted. Slinkman rolled his eyes and said, "Okay, and where's this leading?"

"Don't you GET it, YOU spineless Slug!?"

"Uh, no, sir. No, I don't," Slinkman flatly answered. Lumpus ignored him and went on to say, "The _campers _follow the rules; the _Scoutmaster _makes the rules; the _campers follow _the _Scoutmasters' _rules..." "You already said that, sir-" Slinkman put in. "So, I'M a Rhetoric freak!" "You uh, don't know what that means, sir," Slinkman said. "The _Campers_..." Lumpus repeated, with even bigger emphasis, "... make ME look good!"

"... in front of the Commander, sir?" Slinkman began to understand.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, him too, but mostly my spotless tracking record! That single gravitational element that the very foundation of Camp Kidney is balanced over! As I encourage said laws of conference and administration over campers, the said Campers support my policy to enforce said laws that I quote UNQUOTE put into effect in order to establish boundaries and enact legitimate rights that extend so far as keeping them in accordance with standards and regulations!"

Slinkman was lost... again. "... What?"

Lumpus slammed both hands on his desk. "THEY screwing up, makes ME look good!"

Slinkman simply sat there, stunned- he was now at the tipping point of confusion; he was little afraid if he said anything his head was going to explode. "So... your whole argument is that the _Campers _make you look good, because they would mess up, and make you enact your rules over them, sir?"

Lumpus nodded. "Yep."

"But you've never actually enacted any of your rules."

"Exactly!"

"Sir, you're going around in circles. I-I don't get anything of what you're saying."

"That's EXACTLY what they _want _you to think, Slinkman," Lumpus snidely explained to his superior as he saddled buddy-buddy style to his assistant, officially lost miles away out of whatever Lumpus was trying to say. "See," he explained, "The way that kid talks, when I told him to keep nature OUT, he didn't yell! He's too well behaved! If that kid is all focused like those you see on T.V., then the other campers will follow his example. If they follow his example, the Camp will run itself into the ground!"

"It already has sir," Slinkman said with squished mouth and face, but Lumpus didn't hear him.

"... And if they do it following _my _rules, _I'll _be held responsible and they'll kick me out of the Camp Scoutmaster's secret national cult, the _Grand Legumes!!_"

This was by far, the most dumbfounding thing Slinkman heard out of his superior's mouth so far; but on the other hand he heard crazier- Lumpus had proven in a short time that he was an impulsive liar. In other words, Lumpus was looking for a very flimsy reason to suppress a camper that in Lumpus' opinion, posed a "threat". He wasn't sure what to think. "Sir, I don't see that camper as being a threat. He looks... well, uh, innocent."

Lumpus responded to this with an irritated scoff. "Oh-HO-HO-HO!!! Big things come in small packages, Slinkman! He's MAGIC! A Curse! He's a magical being! That explains _everything _Slinkman!"

As much as he wanted to know what exactly he _meant _by that, he had more important matters to worry about. More importantly, there was _nothing _magic about Maion. "Okay, sir, if you say so. Moving _along_... "

"THINK about it Slinkman!"

"Yes, sir. Now about this Camp Activity you planned for next week..."

"Activity!?" Lumpus sounded incredulous. "I didn't plan any activity!"

"You did. You met with with Jane Doe-" but he was interrupted, as Lumpus's mouth curved into a very out-of-character smirk at the thought of Jane Doe. "Jane... Oh, _Jane... Doooooee_...." he droned in a dreamy, lovesick voice.

"_And _Ms. Mucus."

There was a sound like something deflating in the room. That was Lumpus's fantasy, in the wake of hearing that repulsive, threatening set of letters. "Oh... now I remember. Great." He didn't sound as excited.

"And Commander Hoo-hah," Slinkman finished.

If possible, Lumpus's good cheer went into a blip, somewhere in the empty cavern of his moral fiber. "You decided on a hosting a big competitive event to uh, quote "Get the blood pumping and all the bean and squirrels jumping" unquote, and..."

Lumpus raised an eyebrow, but he was already losing interest. "...And the plan was to get the Beans and Squirrels to exercise and practice teamwork," Slinkman finished.

"Okay... and I'd actually _care _about this, why?"

Slinkman sighed and said, "_Jane Doe-_"

"_Jaaaaane Dooooooooe!_" Lumpus sang in romantic haze. Then this action halted abruptly as he took on a more serious look, and said to his assistant, "Slinkman? I want you prepare the uh... um..."

Slinkman was unsure if he should finish it, but he did anyway; it was his job. " 'Contest', sir?"

"Yeah, that! So... where are we on that?"

"The preparations are already made, sir. They've been made for about..." Slinkman puased, and then checked the watch on his right wrist. "... 3 weeks, 5 days, 8 hours, 28 minutes and 2 seconds."

"Oh. Oh!" Lumpus stammered out in half-hearted approval. He didn't think much about Slinkman's on-top advance planning, but he honestly didn't care as long as he could get some shuteye. "Good then. Uh, very good! Dismissed." Making an ungraceful rise from his chair, he walked towards the door scratching his back, saying in a grouchy tone, "I'm gonna take a nap. If anyone bothers me, see that they get probation."

Slinkman looked hardly surprised at the response, but he certainly looked incredulous. "B-but sir, aren't you supposed to be chaperoning the Boat racing contest?" "Eh, you handle it."

SLAM

Slinkman sighed. Then he heard Lumpus' voice from behind the door yelling, "_Time to work up some mantle for the lovely Miss Doe!!" _

_

* * *

  
_

"DOE! REI! MI! FA! SO! LA! TI! DOOO! TI La So fa me rei do!" Raj sang, going up at an amazingly high pitch before going down to his regular pitch in crescendo. On the side of his bed, Clam was playing on an intricately handmade xylophone- with perfect-sized mallets.

"All right, Raj!" cheered Lazlo, who waited for his turn. "Nice singing!"

Caught up in a half-delusional imagination of being cheered by an amplified cheer of thousands of people (with marshmallow crafted camera poleroids and Marshmallow limousines), Raj said, "_Please_. Please, no autographs, my adoring fans. Just Marshmallows."

Maion was sitting on his bed watching, looking confused. "Umm... what's going on?" he asked.

"Oh, well, Raj likes Marshmallows," explained Lazlo, happy to know that their new cabinmate was pretty interested in wanting to know more about them. "Cause Marshmallows are pretty sweet! Oh, and when you roast them over an open Camp fire, they get all Gooey and sweet! Raj can't get enough of them!"

"Is _that _some _kind of _implication of a negative kind?" Raj eyed his simian friend a little suspiciously.

"Marshmallow fiend, remember?" Clam said out of nowhere. "Mashmallow Monster." Then a pause, as his mischievous grin widened. "_Marsh-ster_, uh, no, _Marshmallow-ster!_"

This set Lazlo off, bursting into laughter. "A-hahaha! I remember! He got all gooey and white and even scared off those Squirrels!"

"Hmph," was all Raj had to say. "I'd call it an unfortunate turn of events."

"Nah," Maion said. "Sounds more like you liked Marshmallows so much, you actually become one... kind of hard to believe, actually."

"How would _you _know!?" Raj responded savagely. "You weren't in my shoes, I wear only one, _two _pairs tops!" And to prove his point, he pulled out from behind his back a pair of cherry-red slippers, and then pointed down towards his black shoes. "And," he continued, "It was a gooey mess, but I wasn't totally upset!"

"But you were stuck when we found you," Lazlo put in, sounding worried. "We felt we were too hard on you, and we wanted to help! After all, we're marshmallow buddies, aren't we?" At this Raj's face softened, then widened to a grin. "That is absolutely true, Lazlo! Marshmallow buddies!"

"But Marshmallows are..." Maion suddenly put in. "sticky... "

Raj nodded. "Yeah, I know, I was messing with a Squirrel Scouts Automated Marshmallow dispensing machine and..." he trailed off as he started twiddling with his thumbs. "Things got out of hand."

"So it was inconvenient for you."

"Inconvenient, yes, cause that was a whole lot of Marshmallow wasted..." Raj agreed sadly.

"No, I mean that you got stuck to a tree, and you couldn't move, and once you figured it out it was too late." Maion's face seemed to darken, but nobody noticed.

"Uh, it wasn't that big a deal," Raj told him.

"Ah, who cares if it was inconven- in-covent- uh, duh, in cognit- that thing you said. Cause Raj is safe! And _soooooo-_" Lazlo began to sing, signaling Clam to start banging over the wood xylophone. "The Jelly Bean Trio _is-!_"

"-Required to play volleyball out by the lake," interrupted Slinkman, who just entered. "Jelly Cabin, you and the Fava Bean Cabin have the Volley Ball Courts up until 12:00."

"Perfect timing!" said the upbeat simian. "We were going ask Maion if he wanted to play Volleyball with us." Then he turned to the wolf, who looked very surprised. "You wanna come?" Lazlo extended his hand in a friendly invite. Maion smiled. "Sure. Sounds great, I love playing Volleyball," he said.

* * *

"ACKPTH!!!" yelled the frustrated Edward, tossing dirt from his face. "Quit tossing dirt around the cabin you morons!"

The cabin sported a huge hole, right in the center. The badge-clad Skip rose his head and said, "Sorry, Edward," for the thousandth time. "We're digging up our secret Watermelon stash."

"Shut up, idiots!" Edward yelled. Skip meekly replied, "Yes sir." "I'm trying to figure out what to do! "

This was a little confusing for Skip. Usually _he _never knew what to do, so Edward would tell him and his brother what to do instead. "About what?" Skip asked, a little out of character, Ed noticed. Chip was still whole-body deep in digging into the dirt. But Ed was too busy sitting on his bed to notice. "About that _kid_," Edward said after a minute's silence. "-dish!?" Skip said, thinking that Edward was pausing. Now that it was out, he thought that Edward was talking about McMuseli's "Serving" a year ago. "I agree, that Kiddish won't stay down! It's like he just pulled it out of the toliet or something."

Chip overheard them talking and said from 1 feet below, "It tastes kind of like that slop we ate last year that tasted like it came out of the toliet!" His voice sounded muffled, but he was underneath a lot of dirt.

"That's because it _was _something that came out of the toliet he gave us last year, Dummiehead!" Skip rebuked his brother. "You're dummier," the agitated vermin yelled back out of the hole. Edward let out a sigh and said to both, "No. I wasn't TALKING about FOOD. I meant _kid_!"

"But Edward we're ALL kids," Skip stupidly replied.

"Yeah I _know _that already," said Edward, not in any mood to keep talking about... whatever they were talking about. And it was strange, listening to Skip say something that was actually sensible. "I'm talking about that Maion kid."

"Oh yeah. He seems nice," Chip said, still digging away.

"No, it's NOT nice!" Ed yelled furiously.

"Why are you making a big deal out of it?" Skip asked, suddenly forgetting that he was supposed to be digging, a first. Between the two of them, Skip was one atom in brain "_smarter_" than his brother, but they were equally dense.

Edward turned to give him a strange look, a little suspicious as to why he asked that. He answered sternly, "Cause it _is _a big deal. I just don't know how! Jelly Cabin gets a FOURTH scout, and Pinto Cabin gets... JACK!" Ed couldn't stop grinding his teeth furiously.

Chip's head shot out of the dirt screaming, "Jack!? Who's Jack! Is there a Jack!? Jaaaack," he started calling out in a concerned voice. "JAAAAAAACK." "Where's Jack, Edward?" the badge-clad dung beetle yelled at Edward, making him slap his head in agitation.

Having been forced to tolerate Lazlo and Camp Kidney in _one _package was torture more than anything Edward could dream, though it paled with dealing with his brothers daily. The natural karma favoured one but never the other; it stung him to know that no matter what hit, good luck was in Lazlo's favour, whereas nothing fell into Ed's lap. Really, nothing.

Ed didn't have a lot to fear with bad luck. He thought it was fine; he embraced that like a sword hilt. It's just that Bad Luck had it bad for _weedily_, big-brained rule beaters like Samson, and he didn't register as a threat. So maybe it did fall into Edward's favor: Ed could deal with sitting to the side on watching others being set up and then have the ground taken from their feet. It was just his nature to enjoy it; but he can't fully enjoy it. Not if things like _certain cretins, _certain imaginative, fortunate, and _freethinking morons, _kept ruining it. But Edward didn't think much of it; at least, he _tried. _He tried really, really hard. He just spent most of his time just trying to avoid Lazlo.

So where did this Maion fit? Even his name told Edward something about him nobody else was catching wise to. He obviously didn't look like he'd fit with the Jelly Cabin trio. From the first moment everyone saw him in the mess hall, it was clear from looking at his eyes, those, lucid, empty eyes, that he had an apathetic disposition, despite looking so accommodating to his surroundings. In fact, Edward wondered, if given the chance, someone like that wouldn't so much as care what the rest of them did. He made no attempt to complain or make a holler or act about the Camp's... inferior disgusting in _any _way like Lazlo and the Jellies. He was definitely a solitary wolf, Edward gathered. He was like him; a black sheep out of a flock of absent-minded white ones. There was, quote-unquote, no "wool over his eyes".

In any case, this was something Edward just couldn't ignore; he was going to talk to him, when he was alone, without the presence of the Jellies. "Well," he said to no one, since both the Dung Beetle Brothers were already well off into another of their poorly-timed periods of no knowledge, "I'm gonna find out what's going on. _Edward T. Platypus AIN'T GONNA sit back and _let..."

* * *

"... You HAVE game, Clam!"

_SMACK! _the white ball hurled over the stretched safety net, then fell over. Clam, donning the most serious look you could imagine, was moving around with the tenacity of a spider. "BALL!" he yelled, cupping his fist into one hand, and then...

_SMACK!_

The ball came flying back, a little to fast for Raj to catch. Raj couldn't reach so he yelled, "Hey, Maion! It's yours!"

"He's really good at this..." On the side, the two loons, Dave and Ping-Pong were watching the game eating candy they (allegedly) stole a couple of years back. Saving really _did _have its benefits. "Yeah. For a Wolf. I mean, it's like he's played Volleyball since he was a microscopic cell," Ping-Pong said back to his brother.

Maion was standing henched over in the background like a bush, waiting his turn. He was messing around with his standard Bean Scout Hat... which felt a little dusty. "Hey, Raj is thing some kind of "hand-me-down" or what?!" he asked Raj. He didn't have time for the question to be answered, now that he saw the ball coming. The orange-brownish small wolf had been given short instructions beforehand on how to play from Lazlo. "Like this, Mr. Lazlo!?"

"Yeah!" the monkey retorted.

_SMACK!_

The ball came flying back to Clam.

"And he's REALLY polite. That's kind of creepy," Dave said in an afterthought. Both loons were on guard because there was this common perception that a lot of wolves were, well, _untrustworthy_. "Hey, uh, Maion? Is it true that you've played Volleyball in Japan?!" Dave was eager to know.

Maion stood up straight and said to the loons. "For the last time, no! You've been asking me that 20 times total today. I don't actually come from Japan. My dad's, well, Japanese, but I was born in America." It was starting to get annoying. Raj had already informed Maion about the Loons and their advanced intelligence. Maion could've been fooled: asking 20 questions didn't sound very smart.

"Okay, Maion, it's coming back over to you!" Raj yelled. "Huh?" Maion stared up and saw the ball coming, and his face took a serious loop.

"Yeah, it's coming to you, so hit it!" Lazlo yelled from the other side, sporting as Clam's team-mate. Maion was getting along pretty well, and they were having awesome fun. The loons were watching in eager interest, having already lost a game to Lazlo and Clam.

"NNNGH!" _SMACK! _

Right when he hit it, he turned back to the loons and said, "Stop distracting me, already! It's kind of... inconvenient."

"Huh?" Both brothers went, feeling a little offended. They didn't say anything particularly offending, but they decided it'd best to walk away from it. So they did.

Sure enough, Maion did hit the ball. Too hard, actually. The ball soared with velocity into the wild blue- er, YELLOW, before falling...

Towards the exact spot where a certain Guinea pig shouldn't have been standing. Samson had a bullseye view of the incoming meteor hurtling towards his glasses and... _SMACK! _"_... merf..._"

"S-Sampson!" all 3 cried. Lazlo ran over. "Woah, we didn't even know you were standing there!"

"Oh my gosh! I'm so, so sorry!"

"Oh it is alright," said Raj. "He gets hit in the face with a ball, a lot."

Sampson got up and adjusted his glasses. He looked unaffected, like getting hit in the face never really happened. But he was still shook up about it. "Hey guys," he finally said, once he was up. Then he saw Maion. "Hey, you're that wolf kid!" he exclaimed.

Maion sounded sheepish. "Uh, sure? I'm Maion. Sorry we couldn't meet personally, I mean, I was just _rushed _to my cabin."

"That's right!" Lazlo guffawed, slapping his forehead. "He's our newest member of Jelly Cabin!" accented by Clam's "Member! Member!"

"Amazing. You guys get a new bunkmate?" Samson said dismally. "How cool is that?"

"Cool... what?" Lazlo asked. He didn't know what the guinea pig meant. Samson pushed back his glasses and continued. "Uh, I mean that you get another _friend _to hang out with."

"Ah, oh yeah!" Raj suddenly yelled, siding up against Sampson. "This is Samspon, Maion. He's extremely talkative, and smells mostly of cheap cleaning products!"

"N-No I don't! And I'll have _you _know," Sampson snidely corrected Raj, "That all of my cleaning products are 4392% effective and sensitive to my ultra-sensitive skin conditions!"

Maion blinked. He didn't understand a word of that. But to be polite, he rose his hand anyway. "Uh... nice to meet you- HEY!" Maion jumped back in shock. So did the Jellies: turned out Sampson was holding in his pocket a miniature can of spray that he immediately dispensed on the orange-brown wolf's hand.

"Samspon? What did you DO!?" screamed Raj. Samspon blinked, like nothing was wrong. "Used disinfectant spray. You were playing with a very, _very _dirty ball! Do you understand how many germs can on a single object at ANY particular point of time?"

"Dude, all I wanted was to just shake your hand. I understand Cleanliness and all, but really," Maion complained. "I get ENOUGH of that in the east."

Nobody bothered asking whether this was rhetorical, but Lazlo let out a disgrunted, headspun, "Uh....?"

"1,892,736," said Clam, who hardly dared speaking at all during the entire weird moment. Sampson regarded him. "Uh... _Exactly_. Oddly enough, that's right. I mean I have _Asthma_, you know."

Maion felt some sympathy. "Wow... sorry about that."

Sampson let out a nasally laugh. "Nah, It's alright. Speaking of which, that ball you guys were playing with was carrying..." Sampson paused out of dramatic habit and let out a hysterical gasp. "GERMS!!" and before you could say, "Tomato Scouts", was off in a cloud of dust. All four Jelly Cabin Bean Scouts stood out by the tennis courts alone, staring after him. Maion scratched his head in a bewildered way.

"Um... Okay. That was weird. Where was he headed?" he asked Raj.

Raj answered dully, "Back to his cabin for his cleaning and medical supplies so he can _clean _himself." This was supported by Lazlo cheerful "Yeah, he's really good with that, cause he knows all about medical stuff!"

"Don't have to be a psychic to know what _he's _going to be when he grows up," Raj said quietly.

"Aw, he'll be okay. He's Samspon! He's..." Lazlo slowed down, trying to find something positive to say in his defense. "He's got glasses!"

"So... Farsighted?" Maion queried.

"Huh?" Lazlo said. Maion turned his head towards Clam, who shook his head. "No. Nearsighted."

"So did you like playing Volleyball anyway, Maion?" Lazlo asked.

Maion looked distracted, staring after Sampson's cabin. "Eh, what's that?" Lazlo asked again. "Oh. Well, volleyball is nice, but you know what'd be really fun? Fighting."

"Fighting?" the three Jellies simultaneously burst out yelling. "We don't do any fighting or yelling like that!" Lazlo laughed. "We just like exploring and trying out new things."

"Not like angry yelling! I mean, you know, having _duels _and playing around with a _sword_ and stuff," Maion explained. His eyes sparked with fire as he continued. "Playing battles with others, comparing weapons..."

"You have a _very _creepy idea of having fun..." Raj said quietly. "Creepy," Clam repeated.

"Oh come on!" Maion scoffed. "Think about it! It'd be like playing to a modern kind of medieval ages! It'd be awesome! Competitions, prizes..."

"But people would be getting hurt!" Lazlo countered.

"No! They won't! Because it'd be like... they'd have invisible _shields _around them like an aura, or, oooh, and they'd take out things like potions and cast magic and..."

"Hold on. Why are we even talking about this?" Raj asked, not seeing the point of the conversation. "I thought we were talking about... you know, the glasses kid?"

"I've seen lots of pictures about medieval combat. Books are too complicated," Maion grimaced, and Raj found himself in agreement. "Oh you bet! But, the way you describe it, it feels kind of like you're just describing a crazy video game."

Maion seemed a little nervous but Lazlo backed him up. "That is a pretty crazy imagination! You know what'd else be crazy? A flying Banana Ice cream sundae!"

"Or," Raj added, "A BIG, super-sweet, talking Marshmallow!"

"Or a Talking Marshmallow riding a flying Banana Ice Cream sundae wielding... a pair of Ninja's Nun-chucks... made out of liquorice!" Lazlo said.

"Cherry," Clam put in. "Hey yeah!" Maion agreed, catching the idea. "_Cherry-_flavoured ninja nun-chucks! Sounds dangerous..." he trailed off, only to be finished by Lazlo. "But delicious." All four burst out laughing like there was no tomorrow. But they eventually stopped, and became silent. Raj suddenly remembered trying to explain Sampson.

Raj scoffed and nudged Maion in the shoulder. "But Sampson? You should see all the ugly disgusting scabs on his back!!" Maion burst out laughing. "S-Seriously?" "They are like, the size of Crutons!!" Then all four burst out laughing, which ended with Maion saying to himself, "ahahaha... that'd be more funnier if I actually knew what Crutons were." Then he let out a sigh, his expression suddenly falling. "Is he always like that?"

The four campers, now definitely in good cheer started back towards the main settlement of Camp Kidney, while Lazlo continued. "He's really... um... " His mind ran into a blank, which Raj promptly fulfilled. "disgusting?"

"No!" Lazlo denied.

"A Nerd?"

"No!"

"Generic?"

"N- What?"

"He's ALWAYS talking about his incredible thousand year-old diseases that seem to ebb at his every little fiber on his grotesque skin," Raj said with a shudder. "Oh, _Gaia_."

"I'm a little lost here," Maion said, confused. "Like, I don't know... _dead in confusion_. Sampson's plaqued eternally by diseases?"

All three nodded, while at the same time, they were standing at the door to the mess hall. Lazlo stared up at a sign written on the door while reiterated, "Huh? E-ternally? Of course! What did you think I was saying this whole time?" Maion shrugged, but Raj didn't think it any less of him. "It's no big deal really," Raj laughed off the subject, as did Clam. Raj stopped laughing when he saw Maion's face darken; _scary_.

"But, wait, Raj. that'd be kind of inconvenient for him, wouldn't it?"

"Huh?" went Raj. "What do you mean?"

"I mean if he's diseased, then he can't have any _real _fun... like Volleyball!"

"Aw, he plays it as well as everybody else," Raj said. "Don't see a problem."

"But it'd be _inconvenient _for him!!" Maion repeated, putting a lot of odd emphasis on _inconvenient. _But this was lost on Raj. He didn't see what was so important. "Uh... okay?"

"No, it's not okay. Because it'd be more convenient if he was actually better in health!" Maion continued. Raj raised an eyebrow and stared at Clam, who was equally lost. Meanwhile, Lazlo was reading a poster on top of the Mess Hall door. " '_Hiking trip at three o' clock...' _" At which his face brightened excitedly. Having been neutral to everything else, Lazlo didn't notice the other three until Raj noticed Lazlo reading the poster. "Hiking trip! Oh, I've got to get my hiking gear ready!"

"But Raj, it's only 12:00. We've got plenty of time to get ready," Lazlo noted.

"But I need to make sure my camping set 1 is precisely identical to my _camping set 2_ so I don't get those mixed up when I take the Camping set 1 with me on the hiking trip!" The explanation was tedious enough that it would've been hard for anybody to get the two mixed up.

Lazlo was on the other hand, euphoric. "Don't worry Raj! You won't need it to enjoy the splendor of nature! Climbing the rocky mountains and digging through dirt, _unearthing _all kinds of cool stuff like dinosaur bones or treasure?"

"... Aren't the dung Beetles interested with _stuff _like that?" Raj asked after a moment's silence.

Lazlo didn't have an answer prepared but noticed something off with the scene; they were down to three. "Hey. Where's Maion?"

"Left for Sampson's cabin," Clam answered in a second.

Both Raj and Lazlo stared at each other, perplexed. Why would he do something like that?

* * *

Samspon put the cap back on the visine, then kissed it affectionately. "Ahh..." he went. "You always know best, my Eyeball Buddy. The same goes for the rest of you, my sweet, sweet, Astma Buddy, Foot Fungus buddy, nasal allergy buddy, and let's not forget you, too, Skin Rash Buddy!" This affectionate reply went to the rest of his "Health Buddies", a collection of medical treatment and outbreak-preventing spray bottles.

Maybe he didn't have much in the way of _real _friends whom he could talk to, confide in, _trust_, but Sampson had "People", if not inanimate objects, that he knew 100% he could count on, right when he needed them the most. The sad fact was he still pined for the real thing.

He really liked... well, he _preferred _real friends. Sadly, the closest he had was inanimate objects and a... caveman. It was kind of lame and socially isolating. Sampson thought he was used to it, thought that not having the luxury of gaining as many friends as someone like... someone like _Lazlo_, wasn't a big deal. But that was life; maybe some kind of natural order he wasn't supposed to disturb.

_KNOCK KNOCK_

"Who is it?" Sampson swiveled around to see somebody standing at the door. As he walked over and opened it, he saw it was Maion. "Oh, hey! Um, whatcha want, Maion?"

"Well..." Maion started sheepishly, taken aback by Sampson's good-natured greeting. "I can make you feel better. From your Asthma."

Lazlo, Raj, and Clam weren't too far behind. Sampson didn't know what the wolf was talking about. But the sentiment made Sampson realize that... this person actually might want to be his friend! "What you mean like a medicine or a pill? Nice try, but those won't work." He laughed his nasally laugh again, which Maion tried his best not to find annoying. "Hey, you seem like a very nice, interested person! Would you like to see some of my "Health Buddies"?"

"Uh... Health Buddies?"

Lazlo, Raj, and Clam walked in, right as Sampson started pulling out various bottles. "Yep! See check it out! This is my Asthma Buddy, _this _is my Foot Fungus buddy, which is definitely going to come in handy when we go on that hiking trip today! Can never BE TOO careful..." Sampson paused, then continued pointing out his treatment products, "And this is Nasal Allergy Buddy..." Maion could see how gross Raj described it, as the guinea pig administered the mouth piece to his lips and started vacuuming in air. He did this for several minutes.

"And this is my skin rash buddy!" Samson showed him the last bottle, which was as generic as the others. It didn't take much thinking for Maion to know what "Skin Rash Buddy" was used for; he cringed. It was the most revolting thing he thought of!

"I... t-COUGH-AKE it that "Skin Rash Buddy" is used for..."

"Yeppers!"

"That is most certainly the case," said Raj from behind. He and the other two jellies didn't say anything since arriving, just to watch Maion's reaction at Sampson. Maion cringed some more, while Sampson greeted the Jellies a little unpleasantly. "Guys? There's too many people in this room, one of you has to..."

"It's GROOOOOOooooooooooOSS!!" Maion exclaimed loudly. But the loud proclamation came out in a loud howl. A loud piercing howl that made everybody inside the cabin jump like a snake bit them, and made Sampson's glasses break; which wasn't surprising.

Once everything became silent again, Lazlo let out an astonished, "_Woah..._"

Raj didn't take the fact Maion was a wolf as seriously as he did now- and he was lost in awe. "Y-You're really a wolf!" he gasped.

"I know that. What? Did you think I couldn't howl? My Dad taught me that!"

All three jellies were bursting with excitement as they stared at each other. "Cooool!!!" they cried simultaneously. "Anyways, sorry about... that."

Sampson knew he was talking about the glasses, which were cracked in the center and giving vision about as multiformed as a fly. But he replaced them with a spare pair in record time. "You don't have to apologize, my glasses break all the time," Sampson let out with a laugh. "But what did you mean when you said you can make me "feel better" from my Asthma?"

This caught the others attention. "You know something that can cure Asthma? Hard to believe," Raj said, curious. "How are you going to do it?"

Maion turned around and grinned sheepishly. Ironic. "OH! Well... "

"Well, what?" Lazlo gladly asked, eager.

Maion didn't give him a straight answer. Clam was bouncing up and down excitedly, eager to see what Maion was going to do. Before anybody else said anything, Maion kneeled down, grabbed Sampson's hand, and closed his eyes.

Sampson looked confused... and disturbed. "Uh..."

"Lazlo, do you think he's a little... crazy?" Raj whispered to Lazlo.

Lazlo was too caught up in his over-imaginative excitement to fully comprehend. "I don't know, he's not, what do you mean?"

"Well," said Raj, "I mean he gets all caught up whenever talking about "inconveniences" and stuff and... is he going to give Sampson a knighthood?"

Guffawing, Lazlo responded with, "I don't know about the other stuff, but a knighthood would be so cool!"

"Historia Regum Britanniae," Clam said quietly.

Everyone's eyes were wide open with shock, right when something sparkled _blue _around Maion's and Sampson's hand. Sampson was especially frightened and threatened to scream, but Maion, uneasily calm himself, said, "Uh, d-don't move, it's almost over."

_FLASH!_

The flash faded, ending the blue spark. Sampson opened both his eyes like he just shut out the ending of a bad movie he watched. "Can you breathe easier now?" Maion finally asked, exhausted. The whole experience nearly took his breath.

Sampson was afraid ask; but a pleasant surprise came that made him forget how afraid he was- he sniffed... and his nose felt _clear_. A smile crossed his mouth when he felt no rash or anything on his body for the first time (It was a major shocker), and the palms of his hands didn't have any _sweat _on them. They felt... fresh; like he had just used disinfecting gel... He felt incredibly new. Like S.M.I.T.S had blessed him.

Sampson, though happy, was now speechless, and remained on the floor.

Raj was the first to say what everybody was thinking exactly at the same time: "Are you... magic?"

Maion was going to say, but got interrupted by Lazlo's, "Woooooooooow!!! You're REALLY MAG-!" Maion, looked frantic and flew over, covering the giant banana mouth with one hand. He had a surprisingly firm grip. "Don't say it, all right?"

Maion did take the hand off, but Lazlo proceeded it say it anyway. Maion flew over again to cover the mouth with a hand, till the simian got the general idea. It was quite the shock; all 4 campers present had seen what Maion did. Once Maion thought for sure he could be trusted, he pulled the hand away... only to get tackled by an excited Clam, beaming brightly enough to power a car. "Get OFF of me!" the solitary wolf screamed.

Sampson asked, in a strange moment of awe _and _terror (terror was his default response to almost any situation), "H-how'd you do that!?"

Maion blushed. Really hard. Now that his secret was out, he knew he couldn't conceal it. Raj, Lazlo, and Clam were also staring at him in point-blank excitement, heavily interested. "Maybe I shouldn't have done it..." he groaned.

* * *

(_Outside_)

A certain Platypus walked away from the same cabin, grinding both his teeth like a saw into wood. His new intent was relaying what he'd just seen with the other campers, and get the word out as soon as possible... then he got a better idea. Camp Kidney's newspapers had an unnatural knack for getting around, and a certain couple of loons could vouch for that claim...

Edward's mouth kept hanging open in as great disbelief as Sampson's. But he hadn't the time to continue; he needed to get away _fast. _But... he just couldn't believe it. Jelly Cabin had been dumped with a solitary wolf... that had magical powers.

Fine, _yes_, Edward never actually believed in it, (or anything), and he tried pretending that it was just some cheap magic trick like he saw magicians put on with cards, but he'd seen what happened to Sampson.

"Unbelievable; I get two dung beetles... and _they _get a freaking magic wolf!?" he groaned. "This is SO unfair!" He shook both fists with jealous at the air, but still kept his voice down so that nobody would hear him.

* * *

(_Meanwhile in Jelly Cabin, 5 min. later_)

Maion sat on his bed, feeling nervous. Literally, he was twiddling his thumbs. He didn't know how exactly he was going to go about explaining anything to the Jellies, now encircled around his bed like a chain.

"But why won't you tell us? Have you always been magic?" Raj asked.

"Are you a fairy, or a pixie? Or maybe... A Superhero?" The way Lazlo asked it seemed more likely. Clam burst out screaming, "Hero, Hero!"

"Uh-!"

"Or you must be some kind of super-cool wizard/superhero antihero!" he burst out yelling, twinkles in his eyes.

Maion was going to protest, if not for the last word Lazlo used. "I- What?!"

Raj began next. "Or surely you must be-!?"

"GUYS!" Maion yelled. "Slow down already! You're making my head spin!!"

Lazlo gasped in aghast excitement. "You can make HEADS spin!?"

Maion badly needed them to listen so he could explain, but Lazlo's over-active imagination was getting out of hand. "Now I'm not sure if that's a good idea."

* * *

(_meanwhile_)

Slinkman's head threatened to spin off its base- if not for his usual calm and fast-thinking attitude. "Uh, sir, you sure that's a good idea?"

"It's TOTALLY a great idea!" the Scoutmaster snapped back at his assisstant, brandishing a balled up fist with one hand, and dangling a phone in the other. "I'm gonna get the story straight from the horse's mouth! Dah... I mean, well, you know, I'm gonna _feed _the story to the horse's mouth... or something," He said this with such cockiness that Slinkman thought he might have gone insane.... well, more insane.

"Don't you mean Wildebeest's Mouth?" Slinkman timidly corrected him. Again, Lumpus was infuriated with being corrected: "Whatever! But he's such a big fan of those darned Tomato Scouts! I bet _he's _a Tomato Scout!"

"... you mean, Commander Hoo-hah, sir?" "NOO!! That little WOLF brat!"

Slinkman blinked once, then checked his clip board. "Uh... I don't think he's a-!"

"Read the form again, Slinkman."

He didn't have much choice, so he sighed and proceeded anyway. "According to this... doesn't look like there's a lot to say about Maion. He's a wolf from Japan, and any of his past connections with Camp Kidney in the Prickly Pines area in Arkansas does not exist. Or never did, because this is his _first time_ being at Camp Kidney." He paused; he _knew _he stressed 'First time', because obvious Lumpus couldn't reigister in his head, or he was simply refusing it point blank. "And for the last time sir, the only way that a Tomato Scout is stated to that title is if he'd been originally a bean scout."

Lumpus settled down and looked unusually perplexed; but he wasn't beaten. There was no way he'd submitted to some stupid _logic_. "Still, the way he looked at me when you brought him in here!! He's got the eyes of a tomato scout!"

"I have records that prove he's not formerly a Tomato Scout," Slinkman said, and to prove his point, he pulled them out from behind. He had just finished making them. Not convinced in the slightest, Lumpus began dialling his superior commanding officer's phone number anyway.

"But sir, Commander Hoo-hah is on Vacation!" Slinkman pleaded desperately with him. "I don't he'd be too _thrilled _at the idea of being called away from his _Vacation_. You barely have gotten by with enough credits on your resume! Do you have _any _idea what he might do to you?" Slinkman found this ironic. He really had no way of knowing what Hoo-hah was capable of, and Lumpus was walking a thin tightrope. "Ugh. We've got to monitor the beans on that hiking trip, we don't have time for this!"

Whether through sheer ignorant stupidity or reckless bravery, Lumpus continued dialling the number. "I don't see how Court-ordered Anger Management sessions is a _vacation_, Slinkman," he mocked his assistant in voice. "And I don't like nature anyway! I wasn't planning on going!"

Slinkman got tired and simply had about as much as he could take. "Okay, fine. I'll be going to get ready then."

"Dismissed."

Slinkman walked out and the close the door, muttering, "I really don't know..."

* * *

"I don't know. Really."

Lazlo's expression fell. "Huh? You don't? How?"

"I mean it. I don't know where I got these powers from."

Raj and Clam gasped and stared at each other. "Woah... for reals?"

"Yep," Maion said, sounding like it was no big deal. The clock on Raj's nightstand kept ticking on. Maion darted passive eyes towards it. Raj had neat things. "I've never told my parents. At all, actually. My mother's a fanatic, and my dad a big ol' yeller. Like he yells, you know, a lot."

Lazlo gasped, for more than just the one reason- it seemed like Maion was now really opening himself up. And at the same time, he felt some sympathy for the wolf. "Uh, what do you mean by "fanatic"?"

"Yeah, how do you mean?" Raj asked as well. "It's not important," Maion said tersely. "They wanted me to be here. To make friends, they said. I couldn't trust them."

Then he turned away, a frown creeping across his features. All three Jelly Beans looked depressed. That was a horrible thing to say about your parents! They were the people who... asked the stork to deliver you, who protected and taught you! The people who sent you to schools to get bullied around and to be made a complete idiot out of by the cranky old bat in math class! Parents were people who express _love_.

In light of that, Lazlo's expression suddenly went serious. "I don't buy that. I don't buy that, for one second."

Maion, caught up in his thoughts, stared at Lazlo.

* * *

"We don't buy that for one second, Edward!" Ping-Pong didn't bother looking up at Edward, because he was so knee-deep and focused into his typewritter, knocking away the last-half of a front-pager - about Scoutmaster Lumpus's latest new "Minimal Toliet Paper" policy. But he sighed- they really needed something that would catch their subscribers' attention, not _this_. This was about as interesting as Camp Kidney can get.

Which ironically explained the absence of paper in the supplies closet lately, Ping-Pong remembered. But what was Edward going on about something magic?

"But you got to believe me! I SAW it with my OWN TWO EYES!"

Dave was operating their personal steam-powered press. "The whole camp _has _been buzzing with chatter about him lately," he said to Edward. "But what made come up with such a ridiculous story like that? Do you have any proof?"

Honestly he _had _none, as he realized with horror when raising his hand and then subsequently lowering it. The hostile platypus was so dead set on exposing what he'd just seen, proving what Maion really _was _(For all intents and purposes, the closest thing to threatening in Ed's book was _demon_), that he'd been negligent in producing substantial evidence. But wait... there might have been proof yet! Edward let out his revelation with a grin. "Actually I-"

_SLAM!_

"DO feel a lot better in health, fellow cabinmates!" Sampson came in with a proud stride, with a look of incredible confidence. He took in a massive gulp of air. The lanky loon at the typewriter couldn't help but drop his mouth open in amazement. "Sampson, you okay!?"

"Guys, you'll NEVER believe what happened to me! I can tolerate dirty things! I can SMELL bad stuff! I'm completely allergy free!!... I thought I heard Edward in here. Where is he?" Sampson looked about and then saw that... the platypus was reduced to a papery thinness. Right behind the door. "Oh, uh, sorry about that, Edward," Sampson apologized while shutting the door.

Ping-pong was finding what he just heard as hard to believe as his brother did. "What are you talking about? And make sure you don't accidentally tread ALL over the newspapers with your nasty letter-writing ink like last time!"

"I'm CURED!!" Sampson gladly exclaimed.

"Of your insanity?" Dave said, though it was meant as a joke.

Sampson shook his head furiously. "NO!

Sampson's eyes bulged with joy as he said, "I'm SERIOUS!! Check this out!" To prove his point, he removed his hat and then pulled out something that would've made anybody vomit: It was a small jar with a jelly-like red substance inside, opaque and thick. Without waiting for anybody to ask, he pulled off the lid.

Dave and brother's faces had gone the wrong shape, their faces and their nostrils filled with disgust. In fact, Ping-pong threatened to throw up; horrible thing too, since he couldn't afford to lose yet _another _typewritter. Edward's beak had equally sunken in sheer horror, as he discovered the identity of the substance Sampson carelessly brought out in the open. "Is that... Chef McMuseli's Downhome Deep DISH TOMATO SOUP!? ARE YOU **OUT OF YOUR MIND!?**"

Dave was thinking the exact same thing, considering how Sampson was smiling like an idiot. Now the putrid odor, newly released from the jar, was swarming the entire cabin like a fog. Ping-pong covered his nose and grunted. "Why do you keep that around _anyway!?_"

"It used to be because I needed a good aroma therapy," Sampson answered. "But not anymore! Watch!" to prove his point even further, Sampson stiffened up, and sucked in a massive current of air through both nostrils. "Ahhhhh... fresh air."

All three present blinked unbelievingly.

"And McMuseli's Deep Dish Tomato Soup smells great!... well, not so much _great _as it does taste terrible. You know, I actually had to have my stomach pumped from even inhaling the putrid scent of his cooking! But... not anymore!"

As less believable the story sounded, Ping-pong just continued staring at the serene guinea pig. He looked mighty enough to withstand just about any kind of foul odor, leaving the two bewildered loons in awe. They were now convinced it had to have been some _miracle_; and at the same time, Dave remembered Edward's story. He asked Sampson, "How? How _exactly _did you get better?"

Sampson's face went stunned. "Oh uh, well... it was uh... Maion. Yeah, Maion cured me!" Then Sampson's proud grin dissolved into a spaced-out "O". "He held my hand... and all sorts of sparkly blue stuff started appearing around my hand! The next minute, I could smell again!"

Ping-pong didn't know what to think; standing before him and his brother was the least tolerable camper in history, claiming he was disease free... and he more than proved it with the horrible concoction... and it was a wolf that did it... wolves, a completely untrustworthy animal...

This was the story they were looking for.

Edward jumped out and pointed a sharp finger. "THERE'S your PROOF, RIGHT HERE, OUT IN THE OPEN!!" he screamed.

* * *

(_Jelly Bean Cabin_)

Lazlo was pointing at himself in the chest. "It's right here, not out in the open."

"What?" Maion didn't understand.

"Heart," Lazlo answered. "Of course your parents care! They should! They do! They care about you enough to not leave you alone! Camp Kidney is the coolest place ever, and they sent you here, knowing that you can make friends."

Raj stood off to the side scratching his head. "Wait, how would you know that's what parents think?"

"I'm not really sure if I can make friends," Maion said quietly. "I mean, what kind of friends would stand by me knowing I can do... this?" On that note, Maion's hands were wrapped in a thick mist of red, that turned into a pair of small orbs once he opened up both palms. Off on the side, Raj stared wide-eyed and cringed a little: learning that one of his friends was _magic_ was still a starting revelation he hadn't adjusted to yet.

Lazlo stepped over to Maion's side and said, "It doesn't matter a bit! We're your friends! Magic won't ever change that! We like you!"

Maion seemed especially touched; Raj was nodding at him and smiling. Clam had been sitting on the bed and fell asleep. "Oh... well... "

"It's okay, you can let it all out," Lazlo said, smiling.

"What you mean cry?" he snapped, though there was a hint he really thought about doing so. "I'm not gonna... I'm not gonna!"

"That's what I said the first time it happened," said Raj.

"Thank you so very much!" Maion cried. Clam popped up from behind and yelled, "Friends!" making Maion laugh a little as he rubbed both eyes out. "Wow. You're really weird, you know that?" Maion laughed. Clam's grin grew bigger.

"I don't think Friendship is gonna dissolve because of some magic you can do," Lazlo said. "It doesn't make you any different! In fact, it really makes you special, because of all the helpful things you can do for other people!"

Maion widened his eyes in surprise. "Really? I've never thought about using my powers like that before..."

"Woah," said Raj. "Talk about a brain thump."

"Sure! With your powers, you can help just about anyone! You could even be like a SUPERHERO!"

Clam started jumping on his bed chanting, "SUPERHERO!! SUPERHERO!!"

Maion tried imagining wearing a costume, but no image seemed to fit perfectly in his mind. ".... I don't know about that. I-I don't think I'd work well with a costume. Can't I just help others by being myself?"

This seemed to take the wind out of Lazlo's imaginary sails. "Oh... well I guess you could..."

At that moment the conversation was interrupted by a loud _whirring_ noise outside. Loud enough to actually make Jelly Cabin shake on it's supporting beams. All for campers were shaking with terror... and because the cabin was vibrating. Clam fell off Maion's bunk on his head. Raj was thrown on his back and clutching onto one of his bunk bed's legs. "W-w-w-w-wWHAT IN GAIA'S name IS THAT!?"

Barely able to retain some stability, Lazlo ran towards the door and clutch the handle. He flung it open, and, accompanied by Maion, Raj, and Clam, treked outside.

There wasn't anything particularly standing out in view. Then Lazlo turned his head to see three figures on motor-scooters flying past. The simian recognized them immediately... especially because he realized they were surrounded. They were litterally on top of them by the time it dawned on them. The four campers fell on the ground. "Squirrel Scouts!"

Maion didn't know what he meant. "What?"

Raj, who did know exactly what he meant, screamed in horror. "SQUIRREL SCOOOOUTS!"

The pig-tailed mongoose manned (Or _girled_, not sure which one) the leading motor-scooter. "What's up, homs?"

"Hey, patsy!" was all Lazlo could say, since he didn't know how (or what) to respond to Patsy's odd greeting.

"So... whacha doing?" Patsy asked with such a curl in her tone, Lazlo's confidence was dented in seconds. "Oh you know, hanging around! What are you doing?"

Gretchen turned off hers, and then looked down sneeringly on the four, pushing her nose against Clam's. "Playing with our super cool _Camp _Motor-Scooters, IDIOT! What does it LOOK like?"

"Wow... sweet!" Lazlo was caught breathless. "C-can we try them?" Raj asked politely through a stuttering voice.

Gretchen burst out yelling, "PFFT, NO!" And the squirrels all started laughing. Nina started spinning her motor-scooter skillfully. "Why don't you _boys _don't ride your own motor-scooters?"

Sadly, Raj said, "_No_, we don't have any- wait a minute, haven't you guys done this before?"

"Done WHAT?" Gretchen snarled.

Raj was afraid of speaking any further, but managed to stutter, "Y-You know, r-r-ride int-t-t-t-t-to the camp with your s-s-ss--s-ss-s-s-supercool motorbikes and-!!"

"Motor-_scooters_," Nina gladly corrected him. She stared back at Patsy. "And yeah, we _did _do this before, technically. That was before we started bragging about we own _our _things, and heh-heh, uh, _you _don't have anything to own, till you technically noted how you have a camp nurse, which technically doesn't register as a something we're of shortcoming in, since a nurse is an organic being, and things such as motor-scooters are inorganic."

Nina's explanation was too complicated for Raj to properly respond. "Uh... what?"

Gretchen bowed down close to Raj's ear. "IT'S NOT THE SAME THING!" "AAAAAAH!!" _THUMP!_

Maion hadn't a clue what was going on, but he realized when it was that people were being made fun of. Gretchen kept going on. "We just like to brag how we're better than you anyway, so I don't see the point of-!"

"It's NOT NICE!" Maion stood up on both his feet at Gretchen. "I don't know WHO you _girls _are, but just because we don't have COOL stuff doesn't mean _we're_... ACK!?" Nobody bothered to tell Maion that Gretchen didn't like being yelled at. A scaly green hand shot out and grabbed the wolf by the neck. "Who the HECK ARE YOU!? _Think _it wise to yell, especially at a girl!? Don't you know the name _Gretchen_, toughest of the Squirrels?!"

That silenced Maion at once. Being a wolf didn't count a lot against an alligator with amazingly sharp teeth. _Deadly _sharp teeth.

Nina raised her glasses like they had suddenly become stuffy. "...Hm!?"

"So... _Lazlooo_," Patsy called back the attention of her love interest (even if he didn't actually know it yet). "Are you... going to win the competition next week?"

"Competition...?" Lazlo wondered. "You mean like another fun outing with everyone?"

"C-competition?" Raj screamed, "W-who said anything about a competition!?"

"Don't you know, there's going to be a contest next week Wednesday," Patsy informed them. "Doesn't your Scoutmaster tell you _anything?_ _We're _going. How about you...?"

Raj bit his lip; he never did like competitions, mostly because all the effort put in by the Squirrels trounced them every year anyway. Raj was dead afraid of girls; they were a completely different breed all their own. He hoped Lazlo wasn't going to say "yes" at all- "Ah, I actually don't think we can-!"

"Sure, Patsy, we're definitely going," said the simian, blissfullly unaware of Raj's hopeless stare.

Patsy giggled. "Oh, that's good to know. Who's this...?" this was directed at Maion.

"He's our new friend and cabinmate! this is Maion Paschar!!"

A weird fell right as Gretchen finally released the wolf from his grip and screamed incredulously, "_Maion Paschar!? _What kind of stupid _name _is that!?" Clam popped up and blurted, "He's _Asian_."

Gretchen folded her hands and snarled, "Pfft, he doesn't even have _narrow eyes_. All Asians have them."

"What?!" Maion snapped at her. "That's a horrible thing to say. I don't have narrow eyes, and even if I DID, I DON'T- _I DON'T_-!" getting worked at the smiling Gretchen, Maion's powers were automatically channelling forth on their own. Both Lazlo and Clam immediately noticed- unfortunately, so did Nina, who gasped; she kept silent waiting to see what happened. Lazlo sided up over and grabbed Maion's hand, shaking his head. Maion calmed down immediately. "You're just mean!" Maion blurted out.

Gretchen thought she'd have died of laughter. And she almost did, flopping on her back and rolling on the ground, giving into the raucous fits of guffaws tickling her insides. Everyone's mouths dropped open stunned.

Sampson, sticking his sample of Chef McMuseli's horrible Tomato Soup back in his hat with one hand, and carrying various newspapers in the other, happened to be walking by, trying really hard not to acknowledge the crazy scene. "Just keeps getting _weirder_," he muttered.

"Wow, Lazlo that's great," Patsy said to the simian. "You've got 4 cabinmates in your cabin, now, just like us!"

"Four?" the simian, albino-skinned rhino, pachyderm, and wolf said simultaneously. "What do you mean, four?"

"I _bet _you'd like to know," said Nina, adjusting her glasses. Raj was still quivering but he stammered, "W-What do you mean by that?"

Gretchen jumped back on her Motor-scooter once she finally got back her balance. "Let's get out of here! I'm not standing around here to take any more lip from a stupid _magic _wolf!"

All four mouths of Jelly Cabin fell open; Maion was especially in shock- how in the world did they...?!

"I-I'm not anything like that!" he desperately lied. It didn't work; proof of that was in Gretchen shoving a bundle of grey sheets in his face. Angry at Gretchen, Maion took one look at the paper and staggered back, appalled. "Lazlo look at this!"

Patsy saw this as a convenient cue to leave, and the three triplets of Acorn Flats zoomed through the gate. At the same time, Slinkman was seen revving up the bus and rounding up all the beans. "... All right, now everyone get on the bus!"

"_Sweet Krashnu, _it's already time to go?" Raj was yelling. "Come on, guys!"

Clam followed, but Lazlo was reading the headline of the newspaper Maion got as they went. His expression matched Maion's horrible frown. " '_Sneaky Wolf steals Guinea Pig's diseases and flees_'," he read separately, each syllable and letter like a dagger stabbing him in the back- it hurt worse than he thought of, having his new friend's secret exposed so early.

* * *

(_Later_)

"My secret's... exposed..." Maion said with monosyllabic prose. "How?"

"I swear I didn't say anything!" Lazlo pleaded. "But I really don't like the idea of fleas stealing! They're just as important to life!"

Maion believed him, but he looked too exhausted to bother saying anything. Raj popped up from the behind seat. Clam was siting in the opposite window side, sleeping. "News seems to travel around... really fast." With that, the pachyderm darted daggers in Sampson's direction on the far side of the bus. The nasally guinea pig could only give a narcissistic and shaky smile, shrinking further back in. "Um... sorry."

_POINK!_

"Hey!!" Maion burst out screaming. An angry pointing finger jabbed him in the nose, and the arm belonged to Edward. " *GASP* _DEMON!!" _

"Edward that's not nice! He's a pixie!!"

Maion shot daggers at Lazlo, who couldn't tell what he did wrong. "Everyone SIT DOWN!" Slinkman yelled from the front of the bus; it was difficult driving a bus and playing mediator at the same time.

Edward rolled eyes and continued glaring disdainfully at the wolf anyway. "This is STUPID! THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS MAGIC!! AND EVEN IF THEY'RE WAS, HOW DID JELLY CABIN GET a _Wolf _that HAS IT!?" He screeched, saliva flying out of his mouth. Lazlo looked unaffected, while appeared angry.

One of Slinkman's eyestalks whirred around and he sternly demanded, "EDWARD! SIT DOWN! _NOW!" _

This prompted Ed to growl and sit down; all of the campers were staring at Lazlo and company, particularly Maion. They all had newspapers. As usual, Sat in a window seat next to the cramp twins- EH, the Dung Brothers. The smell eminating from their bodies were no less revolting today. Skip sat at the farthest end of the seat, carrying one of the Loon brother's newspapers, and glancing both at it and around at Maion several times. "He don't look magic. OOOOH!!" "What?" went Chip. "I bet he's like a Half-Elf-half-Wolf-Half-spaghetti!!" "Spaghetti!? What does spaghetti have to do with anything!?" "SHUT UP, IDIOTS!" Ed burst out yelling.

"Technically, how exactly did you come to manifest the powers to cure Sampson of a medically-proven incurable illness?" the tall lanky loon asked the wolf, leaning his tall neck into Maion's face. The orange-brown wolf looked perturbed, and he certainly wasn't going to answer any questions. "That's kind of rude. How did you know about that?"

Dave narrowed his eyes to slits, dangling the pencil and pad. "_We're _asking the questions. Now, question one, are you, or have you _ever _been a wizard, a colt, a dashinshire, or a ottoman?"

Maion shot a dirty glare. "I don't _need _to tell you anything- wait, what?"

"Have you ever been a Genie?" Dave asked.

"I don't even own a lamp," Maion said.

"How about a midget!?" Ping-pong asked, standing right in front Maion.

"NO, and Midget's are really small, smaller than me!"

"Midgets ARE _cool_," said Chip.

"OOH, MY turn!" _KNOCK _"Urk!" _CRASH!_ "Hey, fellas, can I shake hands with the super cool wolf dude?" It was the large, bulky southern blue walrus, Harold. Lazlo smiled, while Raj rolled eyes and bit his lip. "Harold!" they both said at the same time. "What's up, Harold?" Lazlo asked. "Hey, guys, good to see you again!" came Harold's cheerful beam.

Raj dully explained, "You usually _'see' _us all the time around the camp."

"Dat' true too! Hey, can I shake his hand in that thing you got?"

Lazlo was curious to know what Harold meant, so he persisted. "What do ya mean?"

"The friendship thing! H-Hey can I be ya'll's friend too!?"

On the other side of the bus and in the back, the Lemmings yelled, "Stop being so loud!"

Maion wasn't sure how to respond, but the blue Walrus seemed nice enough. "Uh... sure, I guess?" he chuckled nervously as he reached out to shake the cold hand. It felt incredibly cold! Maion whipped his hand back. "Yeesh! Are you from Cananda or Iceland!?"

Harold looked a little opinionated and started to say, "Well, actually I'm-!"

Maion's expression went blank, and he said in a monotone voice, "**From. North. Pole." **

"Hey, yeah!" Harold burst out laughing. "That's right! Heh-heh, well good ta meet ya! Laters!"

_BUMP!_

The bus ended up hitting a bump on the road, making all the campers jump and go, "_Woaah!_" once Harold left, Lazlo grinned and said, "Isn't that amazing, you already gained another friend, even if everybody knows about your magical powers!"

Maion's grin back to Lazlo's was uneasy. "Yeah... but, I really didn't have any idea where that Harold person- who is he?"

"He's a vague background minor character," Raj said sternly in the behind bench. He then resumed his position of staring at the window, away from they crazy large pool of drool done by an exhausted sleeping Clam. "Uh, wait. What?"

"Don't mind Raj, he's just a really good friend, is all," the simian explained with a grin and nod. Maion accepted the answer. "Oh, okay. Listen, Lazlo," he added in a whisper. Maion was staring down at his hands like they were merely those belonging to a stranger. "I don't... feel so well... "

* * *

(_Scene Change; Camp Kidney - Scoutmaster Lumpus' office_)

"... He's WHAT!?" The infamous military tactician roared out of his seat, once Lumpus finished his long-winded and ridiculous-sounding report about Camp Kidney's latest "attraction". It didn't really seem to matter if he was only 1 foot away, beyond a mahogany table. The mere presence of his commander officer and official head of the Tomato Scouts, Ex-Sargent Reuben Thewatt Hoo-hah was more than enough to chill the pitiful Scoutmaster Lumpus to his bones.

"Ab-ah-ah-ah-ah-w-w-w-w-wwel- we- we- well I MEAN to say that-!!" the apathetic moose tried really hard to stutter out of his mouth. But nothing coherent came.

"You make ME, the overseer AND Tomato Scout Commander, drop my scheduled sessions for that _DARN-TOOTED, court-ordered ANGER-management _sessions, because you want to show me some RIDICULOUS NEWSTORY about some _STUPID _camper having "_magical" _POWERS, which is obvious _NOT REAL_!?"

"And _futhermore_, Scoutmaster, he is NOT a Tomato Scout! I don't have any recollection of any scouts named "Maion" among the few 50 that make it to Tomato Rank!" Hoo-hah barked.

Lumpus gulped hard; that shot that little paranoia out of the window. This was it, Lumpus knew, he was going to get _whacked_. "It's in newspapers! It HAS to be true! And I can _prove _it!" Scoutmaster Lumpus grabbed his mike, yelling into it, "_Slinkman! Bring that little whachamacallit in my office RIGHT NOW!" _

He was so sure of himself, Scoutmaster Lumpus actually swelled up his chest, as much his pride as well; he decided to lean up against the wall for a few minutes, certain that Slinkman would bring the rotten "whatchamacallit" into his office so he could have him deported.

Several minutes passed and nothing happened; and Commander Hoo-hah was looking impatient. Sweat began to run down the narrow cheekbone of the agitated moose, who annoyed kept thinking, _Where is that darned Slug? _

Hoo-hah tapped the floor impatiently with his foot. "Where's your assistant, Lumpus!? And _where _is this scout?!"

Not wanting to suffer the wrath of having his office smashed up (Again), Lumpus tried calming the man down, "N-no, it's f-Fine! He's coming! He probably just went on a HIKE a-and-!"

Then he froze as he remembered; Slinkman had been saying some nonsense about how he was going to take the Campers for a hike and visit the that stupid geyser... and as it turned out, the bus was gone by the time that Commander Hoo-hah arrived... the stodgy, clueless moose realized his mistake in cold horror. _Oh, fantastic_. Now there was nothing left to do but bite the bullet.

"Um, they... m-may have... m-may h-hahave gone for a... hike... "

"You DON'T have your Campers ready!? What kind of Facility are YOU running!!"

Lumpus was reduced to a gibbering wreck; his voice was reaching a high pitch. "M-maybe they'll be... _back?_"

Hoo-hah smiled evily. "_Really!?_" he inquired.

"Y-yeah! Uh, uh!" darting his eyes back and forth across the one window room, Lumpus desperate searched for an adequate distraction- big enough to occupy the gargantuan wildebeest's time and stave off his festering impatience. "Why don't we just go to town and check the uh... um, military surplus warehouses they have?"

Hoo-hah didn't know what he meant. "What are you talking about? There AIN'T no military surplus store! And I DON'T have the time!"

Lumpus almost lost his temper, and nearly burst out screaming, "Oh _come _on, you're not exactly keen on those stupid Court-ordered anger-management classes! You like beating up people more than "managing anger"!" Realizing too late the mistake he made, the stubborn moose prepared for the worst; until he saw that Hoo-hah was actually considering his words with thoughtful reflection. "Say," he began. "You got a pretty good head on ya, Lumpus!"

At this response, Lumpus' mouth dropped open, big enough to let out a fly; he was having a hard time taking in what was the most incredible, impossible 360* in history. "We can visit a hardware store. I LOVE using metallic, gritty, angry tools when building something _BIG..._and _MANLY... _like a house, or a storage shed!"

The response was an orchestra of stutters; Hoo-hah didn't seem to notice, to caught up in the idea of an added extension shed to his Garage. Just the simple image of perfect woodcraft, excellent angling, and secure bolting started making the easily-aggravated wildebeest drool with excitement. "Waddya say, Lumpus? Let's go down to "Tamie's Hardware" down in Prickly Pines and see what they have?!"

Lumpus wasn't sure if saying "Yes" would've been a good answer; then again, it didn't look like he had a say in it anyway. Before he knew what hit him, Hoo-hah snatched the moose excitedly by the neck like a over-eager child dragging his mom to a carnival. They were already outside, and Hoo-hah snatched out his keys to his jeeps ignition. Hoo-hah slammed a foot on the gas pedal, and they were out of the camp in seconds.

* * *

Leaning on the fence that kept all visitations away from the infamous inactive geyser, Clam was yawning out of his own inactivity for the past half-hour. Lazlo, Clam, Raj, Sampson, and the Two loons were were grouped around the shy wolf, watching the geyser. All the other campers brought along were either hanging near the bus, or near the visitations restroom. The best feeling for Raj was that there weren't any girls around.

"So... why are we here?" Maion said exhausted. The one-mile hike to the geyser was more than enough to take one's breath away.

"I think we're here to see the geyser," said Lazlo.

"Um, usually geysers don't erupt till... some point," Ping-Pong interjected. "You think Slinkman knows...?"

Slinkman was preoccupied with the giant plague placed near the geyser reading, "_World's Greatest Geyser_... _It is here that_-" And he trailed off, continuing to stare doubtfully at the plaque.

"No," Dave answered his brother.

A moment of silence passed; close on the other side of the geyser were the Dung beetles and Edward, who ignored their usual stupidity. Today they were playing with their toy needle-gun dispenser, which Edward had personally given to them to keep them quiet. Maion suddenly said, "Lazlo?"

"Hmm?"

"Nobody thinks that me being able to do magic is weird... or frightening?"

Lazlo fell silent.

"Too strange to ask?"

"Uh, no."

"Oh, big deal!" Raj burst out laughing as he walked over. "Do you honestly think _you're _the first _magical_ thing to fall into our laps?"

Maion didn't know what to say. "Uh... yeah? I'm not...?"

"Well I guess we've already had weird instances of odd supernatural happenings?" Lazlo said. "Really...?" said Maion. "Like what...?"

Lazlo's gaze darted away while he tried to thinking. "_Well_... "

(_Insert A Poofy Cloud flashback sequence of various supernatural happenings, such as the Volcano Incident, The Tusk Wizard, Sampson's caveman, the Cheese Aliens, The comet, Edward's Birthday, The Dig for Dinosaur Bones, The Mail Incident, and the switch of fortune (_**Bad Luck Be A Camper Tonight**) )

Maion fell silent, looking aghast. "You can't be serious," he said. "A _Tusk Wizard?_ That's just weird!"

"Weird?" Sampson input, but Dave casually brushed him off. "Kind of like "Not easy to talk about". Nobody's actually impressed that you're "magic" or whatever. Lucky for you that you are."

Lazlo who still kept thinking, said, "Wait, guys, there's S.M.I.T.S!" "S.M.I.T.S!!" Clam burst out screaming. "Who?" Maion asked. "You know," Lazlo continued. "The "Scout-Master In The Sky"! He's magical!"

"Lazlo, shut up!" Sampson cried. Then he ducked behind him, darting suspcious eyes at the sky and ground. "You don't KNOW what kind of powers you're dealing with!"

"You mean Maion?" "NOOO," the guinea pig snapped back. "I _MEAN Smits!_"

Maion looked hardly surprised, since he didn't appreciate Sampson's babbling of his secret earlier. "Will someone explain this to me?"

"SMITS is the reason I can barely get _through a day, _except that it _comes _with-!"

_SMACK!_

Sampson couldn't finish after getting hit square in the face with a... soccer ball. The force sent the poor guinea pig flying all way near a grove of trees.

"That's _real _divine punishment there, baby," Ping-pong laughed uproariously.

"Uh..." Maion began sounding afraid, as he backed slowly away. "Wait. Where'd the ball come from?!"

"Don't worry, this sort of always happens to Sampson, nobody else," Dave explained. "We know that it's scientifically possible that it could be some form of divine sentience."

"You mean like a "god" or something?" Maion said doubtfully. "That's not possible."

"Sure it is!" Lazlo said cheerfully. "I met S.M.I.T.S once. He gave me back the good luck he had mistakenly given to Sampson."

"And what was he like?" asked Maion a little more seriously. "_What _did he _look _like?"

Lazlo looked a little worried, seeing how serious Maion acted. The two loons, pachyderm and even the albino pigmy rhino, were closely watching. "Oh, well, he wore Scoutmaster Shorts, sandals, black socks, and he sounded like... like..."

Sampson jumped up and ran back over, yelling, "He sounded like Joe Meerkat, the famous T.V. actor Sensation!" And to prove his point he even pulled out a large magazine that had a large, and very obnoxious-looking meerkat with red hair, doing a ridiculous pointing gesture with his finger. "And Magazines never lie; it's through these I can advance my sense of doom. Also, this magazine smacked me in the face when I was riding my bike. Which means it came from S.M.I.T.S!"

Maion's expression sharpened to such an extreme degree. On the other side, Edward could see it plain as day, and his expression was as in much surprise as Lazlo, wondering what happened. "You're... you're just basing such trivial facts that you might have only encountered through hallucenation. You automatically assume that things like material items come of divine origin? You think that will make things better? Are you THAT completely _stupid?_" Lazlo was beginning to get scared. He was yelling at Sampson like he really _was _angry. Even worse- Maion's nostrils tensed up, his teeth even began to show. This felt almost _wrong_; was this really the same curious and shy wolf they were talking to several minutes ago?

The harsh silence was broken by two events; Maion's face immediately straightened out as he realized with shame how he was frightening the other campers, and Sampson was a prime example he broke down and began crying.

"Dude," Raj said. "What is up with you? You're acting completely weird!"

Maion's mind ran to blanks at each turn. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-!"

"It's not nice to call people names," Lazlo told him. "Why would you-!?"

"I'm sorry! I don't think any of you are stupid!!"

A moment of awkward silence followed, till Dave said, "Okay, I'm filing this under weird." Maion cried, "No! I really am sorry!"

"You shouldn't say that to _us_, you should at least say that to Sampson," Raj said.

Maion scratched his head. "Sampson, I'm really sorry about what I said. I didn't mean it, alright? I don't think you're stupid!"

Sampson immediately straightened up and turned about face. "Yo-y-you actually mean it?" Maion smiled. "I do! Yeah, forget what I said!" To prove his point, he extended his hand out to shake Sampson's. Sampson would've preferred a hug, but he gladly accepted the handshake, and the apology.

Smiling, Lazlo wasn't sure of what to make about Maion's personality, but he came near and also shook his hand, happy with the outcome. "Isn't that better? Everyone gets a chance to make up and be friends again!"

"Fine, that's all fair and good, but, I don't change my beliefs for anyone," Maion told him.

Raj was still shaken. "You're just so... mature."

"Yeah," Ping-pong agreed, because Raj had actually said something that gave away an acurate description of the wolf. "I was thinking the same thing!"

"I don't get it," Lazlo said quietly.

" "Mature" people," Sampson said, rubbing his nose. "A-Are like adults, Lazlo."

"Adults!? But he's a kid, like you and me; why are you so much like an adult?"

Maion frowned. "You guys ask a lot of questions. I guess that's probably the way I am." Maion was staring at the geyser. "I'd like to know a little more about _you_, instead."

"Huh?!" went Lazlo. "About me!?"

"Yeah," Maion said, turning to face him. "Not like how knowing that Sampson was raised by a pair of squid creatures."

Samspon dropped his mouth open, not recalling ever telling Maion anything about that. "H-HOW did-!? But you've never seen-!? MERP!!"

"You already knew about Sampson's parents!?" Ping-Pong cried, forcing Dave to say with shudder, "Nobody actually wants to know about _Sampsons _parents." As if to prove this fact, Clam let out a disgusted "Yuck."

Lazlo turned to look at Maion. "Hey, do your parents know Sampson's parents? Maybe met them?"

"No," Maion answered flatly. "What happened, was, the moment I happened to shake _Sampson_'s hand, I automatically knew. His phobias, that thing he has with Storm clouds, and some crush he has on an owl girl named Alm-"

"Hey, hey-hey!!" Sampson interrupted him, cheeks burning red, furious and embarrassed that his private thoughts and feelings he painstakingly kept to himself... even if nobody bothered to ask. "I didn't say you could say ANYTHING about my personal life!!! Who are you!?"

Maion looked definitely regretful for saying so. "I'm sorry, again, Sampson. I didn't mean to! I just immediately knew. Like, the same way a bird would know how to fly. Your thoughts, memories, and feelings... they came flooding into me the moment I shook your hand."

Even angry as he was right now, Sampson was now becoming freaked out by Maion's increasingly odd personaility. "You're just getting weirder; that magic is going to your head."

"This is getting really... um... I don't know," Raj said to Lazlo, who didn't seem to hear him. "Maion what's going on here?" he asked him, his voice sounding surprisingly shaky.

"Nuts to that!" Edward burst out of nowhere, surprising everybody. He snuck over, unnoticed with the Dung Beetles. "Why don't you try using that awesome power of yours and making the Geyser pop to life?"

"You really think he can do that?" Lazlo asked, getting slowly excited.

"Don't be stupid. If his magic can step up from curing others and siphoning memories, then maybe it can do more than that," Edward said.

The Loons looked suspiciously at him. "Keeps getting weirder," they said simultaneously in a freaked out voice.

"That's _my_ line!" Sampson yelled.

Ping-pong suddenly recalled something he knew he had to bring up. "Hold on, all that stuff you said. You're just taking lines out of that Adventure magic movie we watched last ye-!"

"I am NOT!!" Edward fiercely countered. He knew he was right. He _did _sort of love watching movies since the whole "Birthday" incident. "Yeah, you _do!_ That was the line that _Lizard _used against the _fly warrior of Gorgon Six!_" Ping-pong said.

"Hey, have you ever seen movies like that, Maion?" Lazlo asked the wolf, who simply responded, in the same nonsyllabic voice, "No. Well, maybe a few, but all there was to watch were a bunch of history movies and-!"

"Woah," Chip said. "Sounds like it was a boring childhood." "Eh, could've been worse."

Edward saw the conversation jumping out, so again he prodded the wolf. "Hey, wolf! You should try making the Geyser pump!"

Now Maion stared incredulously at the platypus. "How do you expect me to do that?"

"You're magic aren't you?" "Not the same thing." "Your powers must be getting stronger, I can tell!" Edward reached into his pocket and pulled out a license, which once was out in the open, now stunned everybody, particularly Sampson. "_You're _part of the _Wizards and Lizards Dungeons and Dunces Games Club_!? I thought they were exclusive!!" The card even had a golden sheen; Edward was carrying a gold-plated card. "It's even GOLD-plated!" Sampson stood still in awe. "I'm a certified member."

"You mean," Lazlo said, "you joined a club for fun and friendship?"

"Pffft," Edward scoffed at the lowly simians' ignorance. "_Yeah, right. _I signed up for this cause I wanted to be better than everybody else in camp that _wasn't _a member! And also cause ladies dig card-carrying men!"

"But Edward, _why _would you sign up for something you didn't actually believe in?" Ping-pong asked.

"Cause ratting on nerds is more easier when I'm on their territory! And also cause I'm a card game master. Haven't you _ever _played "Yu-gi-owl", the supercool trading card game?"

Everybody just shook their heads like they heard a completely foreign language. "Man you guys are just lame. Well spending 2 years studying a gigantic book called "Magic: The Real, and the Fake", wasn't wasted at all for me! I just... didn't actually think someone like _you_ would show up in Camp Kidney! Why would your parents send you _here? _I don't get it!"

Maion looked at Lazlo. "To make friends," he answered.

"So you're _just _like the rest of them! You're nuthin' but a pea-brained chowderhead!"

Maion didn't appreciate that, but as angry at the platypus as he was, he still didn't believe in using force on others; instead, he surprised everybody by turning the other cheek and shot eyes at the inactive geyser. He started doing something, which nobody knew until a few minutes later was straining. "WHAT are you doing?" Edward screamed at him. Maion ignored him. Maion's teeth began to show; he didn't have an idea what he was doing, but he knew he had powers, and he was trying his hardest to manifest them. _I'm gonna make this HAPPEN. I'm gonna make... that... agh... agh... geyser... burst!_

At that moment, it seemed like the world was shaking. Raj fell right on his belly at the same time as Sampson, most of the other campers, like Lazlo and Clam, remained steady. "W-w-w-w-w-w-w-what i-in the world is happening n-n-now!?"

Lazlo was trying not to sound afraid; but he could see that something of a strange light suddenly enveloped Maion like the small glow of a lantern. "Ma-AI-on!?"

Slinkman still hadn't noticed any of what happened on side of the plague, but he did notice when the Earthquake hit. "What the Bean is going on around here?" Having nowhere else to look, he pointed at the sign and yelled, "_Why _d-did I think co-co-c-coming back he-e-he-here was a _guh-guh-guh-good _idea!?"

"STOP THAT!" Edward screeched at the top of his lungs. "STOP DOING THAT!"

Not because Ed had ordered it, but Maion ceased holding both arms in the air, and so did the light quake. It stopped completely; the wind even ceased it's occasional light gusts through the area and there were no birds to be seen in the trees.

_BURST!!_

All the campers let out a piercing yell that scared the only adult in their party, Slinkman, out of his wits. He then ran over, and cried horrified, "Are you kids o- Woah!"

The geyser erupted with a giant fountain of water, and everyone had to stand back in order to keep from getting wet. "Old faithful... " the banana slug whispered breathlessly. "She actually erupted this time! I was... starting to think it would never..."

"Mr. Slinkman!?" came a panicking voice. Everyone darted in the direction of a shaky and very perturbed Harold Walrus running over with Sam the stork and Sagitarius Goat. "There was a loud earthquake and we were wondering if everyone was-!"

"I already know!" Slinkman snapped. He then turned his attention to the respective parties of Jelly, Pinto and Fava Bean Cabins. "Are guys alright? That quake came out of nowhere!"

"We're all right, Mr. Slinkman!" the trio of Jelly Bean chirped. "W-Whatever we're... okay!" "We're all right!" Edward the Dung Beetles reported, standing at attention. "Technically undamaged." "MERP! My shorts are riding high! It's like having a weggie!!" were the Fava Bean members' responses.

Maion also nodded; everyone was eerily quiet about what happened. Slinkman sighed in relief. "Thank goodness. For a second I thought something horrible happened."

"I think it actually did 'something horrible happened'," Chip informed Slinkman.

Slinkman perked up to attention and gasped. "What?! What is it!?"

"We lost our favourite pointy toy stick," said Skip.

Slinkman wasn't sure what they were talking about. "Huh...? 'pointy toy stick'...?" His expression grew stern. "Hold ON, you don't mean...! _What _have I told you two about bringing _that _along!?"

Maion whispered to Lazlo, "What's...?"

Lazlo couldn't answer, but Edward sidled up to the other wolf's ear. "It's a long sharp twig branch they sharpened to... poke at things. By the way, _dude, that was insane! You made the geyser burst!_"

Slinkman took over the two dung beetles over to look for their "toy" while the Fava, Jelly, and Pinto stared at the strange Maion with amazement... and worry. He suddenly looked dizzy. Raj cried, "You really can do magic! That was amazing! ... but also kind of scary..."

"I really didn't believe I could do that," Maion said, feeling his composure shaken. Then he turned to Edward and said in a mocking voice, " 'Bet I _can't_ make a Geyser implode?' Give me a break."

"You MUST be some kind of Wizard," Dave interjected. "No, he's a warlock!" Ping-pong corrected his brother.

Lazlo confronted the two loons. "Guys, don't fight! Besides, Warlocks are good people too!" "Wait," Raj retorted. "What makes you say _that?_"

"Well," Lazlo said quietly, "I read Warlocks are bad, but that can't be right, I mean they just need a friend and then they can use their powers to make pancakes for the entire town of sleepyville!"

"Yeah," Edward agreed, albeit sarcastically. "... and I bet you were also dropped on your head as a baby."

"_Woah_... Hey, how'd you know that, Edward?" the simian asked him good-naturedly. "Are you magic like Maion, too?"

Edward dropped his mouth open, unable to say anything. Lazlo looked a little perplexed. "Uh... Edward- ah, Maion, you alright?"

Maion was stumbling backward a little like he was getting sick. "N-No I'm fine... I think."

Edward let out a snide laugh. "Overloaded, much?"

"What?" Maion asked. Ping-Pong immediately knew what Edward meant and was planning on saying so, but Sampson popped out of nowhere and said, "Making something _big _like a geyser erupt was too much for Maion, since he hasn't developed his power fully."

All three jellies scratched their heads, but Maion stared incredulously at Sampson and asked, "How'd you know I've never attempted anything big with my powers, that I've just started on my own two feet?"

"Cause all the wizards and warlocks I've read in my fiction-adventures storybooks at home usually never have full control at all," said the guinea pig.

"Well I'm not... I-I'm not a wizard, I'm a wolf... with magical powers..." Maion said, clutching his head agitatedly. "Ah, oh man, _you might actually be right_."

"Ha! told ya!" Sampson bragged, immediately silenced by Edward. "Button your lip, nerd!" "I'm NOT a nerd!" "You wear glasses, you have diseases, _used _to, and you have an unnatural pair of shoes that lets you steal McMuseli's candy." "Ooooh, _Edward_, you said you wouldn't say anything about my Orthopaedic Shoes!!"

Edward and Sampson kept arguing, while Lazlo, Raj, and Clam noticed Maion's condition getting worse. "Maion!" they all cried simultaneously. Ping-pong squinted his eyes. "His hands are glowing intensely, just like before. I'm not liking the looks of this- Slinkman's coming back!"

Lazlo and Jellies got in front of Maion to prevent Slinkman from seeing his unnatural "hand coloring". Slinkman had a depressed look on his face. "Everyone gather around- what's going on here?"

"Uh, nothing!" the leader of the Jellies nervously laughed. "We were just uh... um..."

"Waiting!" Raj burst out yelling. Clam even agreed through a nod.

Slinkman blinked before deciding that nothing suspicious seemed out of place. "Okay, well I've got bad news. Turns out that a certain _pair of campers' _favourite and clearly dangerous toy has flown out of their hands during that _quake_, and it unexpectedly made a small puncture in the right front tire on the bus. And we used the replacement dummy tire _last _time, so we can't use it again."

"Wait," Ping-pong began. "_Why _exactly can't we use the dummy tire again? Is it because it would be a financial strain on the Camp budget?"

"Um..." Slinkman trailed off. (_Insert poofy cloud flashback sequence of Lumpus threatening to salt Slinkman_) "Yeah, you could say it like that."

"You know, you _could _always use these two dummies for tires," Edward sarcastically suggested; though both vermin were as usual unaware that friend was actually talking about them. Slinkman made no heed and said, "Knock it off, Edward. Now everyone get on the bus! We're going to Prickly Pines to get a new tire."

This incited a loud holler of excitement from the campers. Slinkman went to start up the bus and again motioned for all the campers to get on immediately.

The Fava and Pinto Beans gathered around the Jelly cabins with satisfied and mistified smiles. "Because of you, now we get an extended trip to Prickly Pines!" Sampson exclaimed. "This. IS. Awesome!... you okay?"

Maion heard the guinea pig, but he certainly didn't feel like was okay. His head was burning up. "I... I'm not, I am, I don't know. Maybe you're right."

"We _need _to get on the bus!" Raj cried. Lazlo wondered how they were going to get Maion and his glowing hands past Slinkman. "I think I have an idea. Slinkman!" he called out, grabbing the banana slug's attention. Slinkman was writing on his clipboard and yelled back, "Is it important?"

"Um... uh, maybe you should check the bus bumpers too!" It wasn't a terrible excuse, but that seemed to be the only thing that came to Lazlo mind at once. "It could be dented!"

"What?" Slinkman wondered what the simian was talking about- till he did give it some thought. "Oh! You may have a point!" he then left the door muttering, "Don't know what those Dung Beetles are capable of..."

Once he cleared, Lazlo gave the signal and Raj and Clam rushed a brooding Maion up the bus steps, behind several other campers. Then once Edward and the Pinto Beans were on board, Lazlo jumped on as Slinkman returned. It actually took him several minutes before getting behind the wheel, and turning the bus around in the direction of Prickly Pines. He wondered worriedly why Lazlo told him something like that, but the banana slug decided that since nothing was dangerously out of place, it didn't really matter.

* * *

(_meanwhile_)

"...AND that is why things MEN say don't really matter," Ms. Mucus finished. Another successful seminar near the lake, which was more like a pep rally for the upcoming "Tournament". Needless to say, it was going better than expected. Nina was sitting among them between Honey and another squirrel taking notes. "So what's say we get ready for another 400 push-ups to getting ready for the tournament!" Ms. Doe was busy setting things up for a picnic, completely oblivious to the day's events.

"We're back!" The 5 squirrels and Mucus swiveled around to see Patsy and Gretchen walking to where they were, with sodas in tow.

"Hey!" Nina called out to her friends.

"Hey," both Patsy and Gretchen said. Patsy finished off her soda and then asked, "Where's **Jensine**?"

A dark female dog popped up from the far left. "Present!" She was holding a newspaper. "Did you guys want to talk to me about the Newspaper?"

Before they got a chance to answer, Ms. Doe suddenly ran onto the scene, stopping to catch her breath. "Jensine! Dear, I'm so sorry, I forgot to tell you thanks again for offering to help me clean up mine and Ms. Mucus' dorm!"

"Certainly," the dark canine answered coolly.

"And you did such a _wonderful _job setting up the tables for this weeks' dinner!"

"Absolutely."

"And dear, going around and setting all of our girls' clocks back to this afternoon so that they'd ring at the pricise moment in tomorrow morning was... I guess a nice gesture!"

"Hold on!" Honey suddenly popped up. "We all have keys to our personal cabins! How'd _she _get in to set up our clocks!?"

Ms. Mucus leered over the angry lioness and huffed. "_I _gave her the master key. She's very trustworthy and _focused_ unlike _some _camprettes around here!" Honey immediately shrunk down in shame.

Ms. Mucus regarded Jensine again. "She's been here for like, what? 8 Hours, and already she's demonstrated the grace, poise and fortitude like I've never seen! It's as if she was raised in the military herself! I've never heard of a girl scout focused enough to care about protocol!" Ms. Mucus hated admitting that herself; but it was true that she was struck amazed by her performance.

"Ohhohohoho, how _lovely_! Isn't that interesting?" Ms. Doe cheerfully added.

The complected dark canine shrugged and gave off a very nervous smile. "Uh... thanks I guess?"

"She's _not _all that great..." Gretchen sneered, though nobody heard her.

Patsy stepped forward and said, "Uh, Headmistress Doe? Can we take Jensine and Nina away for a few minutes?"

"Sure but remember, today is 'Tasteful Taco Night'! Don't be late!"

* * *

Patsy closed the door just as Gretchen sat on her bed. Permeating the air like a mist was the lemony scent of pine cones, and Nina's chemcial set that sat to the right of the large mirror. The adequately sized white bed sat near the window, where Jensine was standing, still clutching onto the newspaper. The sun's rays were pouring down through the window, casting her shadow over the bed.

"So... you've been saying the more you use your powers, the more stronger you get?" Nina began.

"I don't believe in _magic_," Gretchen said. "I still say it's a some cheap magic card trick! How can you be so SURE it's the real deal!?"

"What!? But she even showed us herself!" Nina rebuked the alligator. "She could make an icecube appear right out of thin air!"

Patsy sat on the bed and watched her new cabinmate just staring at the crystallite substance. Patsy wasn't in disbelief like Gretchen, but she didn't hold that against her. Patsy held some beliefs and others she would not give up her focus unless the proof showed itself. Magic was a blip on her radar, but something not to be ignored - not when the evidence was right in _front _of her. In that newspaper.

Gretchen folded her arms. "I still think we should've told the Head and Ms. Mucus."

Patsy stubbornly said, "And I said we promised Jensine that we'd keep this secret!"

Jensine didn't pay attention to them, but she did hold out her hand and focued hard. floating right above the palm was a cold mist that condensed, and froze in place, becoming a cube. She frowned. Nina bounded over like an scientific fanatic, both eyes bulging out in sheer incredible excitement; she kept examining and re-examining that hand and palm. "Maion has powers like me."

"I KNEW it!" Nina burst out screaming, still bouncing up and down excitedly.

"And _what _makes you so sure that a bean scout has 'magical _powers_'!?" Gretchen asked, though mockingly emphasizing 'magical powers'. "It can't actually be possible, I mean come on, even if "magic" exists, how did it end up happening to fall into the _Bean Scouts_' hands almost at the _exact _same time as Jensine!?"

"_That _we can just chalk up to crazy coincidence," Nina brushed her off. "I'm more interested in knowing how."

Patsy was next to speak. "We've got to make sure that nobody else finds this out. Hey, Jensine?" "Huh?" "The way you say his name, it sounds like you know him personally."

Jensine grinned widely and said, "You've got a point. I think I've gotten used to just doing _this _with my hand," she indicated the icecube in her hand, while the other three stared at her, mouths open wide. "And I don't mind doing it around you guys. And what Nina said earlier must be true. I can actually sense a lot of odd things- I can _feel _Maion if I concentrate hard enough. And you're absolutely right; I _do _sort of know him. Personally. He's nice, but also kind of a jerk. I didn't know that he _had _powers like me, till just this very moment. Which is kind of weird since he's my nephew."

A long silence passed before Patsy dared to speak. "That... was unexpected," her voice sounded a little shaken.

"This is a whole bunch of STUPID!" Gretchen yelled. "How can a Wolf be your NEPHEW _and_ have magical powers?"

Jensine made the ice cube melt in her hand, before lowering it and laying back on the bed. Patsy got off and leaned against the door. "Well, as far as I know, my mother told me she had a sister who traded off her last name of 'Castiel' for 'Paschar' when she married. I spent time with him when we were babies, and he was very solitary since he was born part wolf. So I didn't bother with him."

Nina adjusted her glasses. "You seem pretty calm about all of this."

"I don't care," Jensine said, rising up to stare at them. "But if he wants to be a jerk all of his life, then whatever, it's not my problem."

"And Lazlo's actually _hanging _out with somebody like that," the pink-haired mongoose shuddered. But the mere thought of Lazlo, his cheerful positivity, his board banana smile and lean frame, it was sending her heart into a soft dance.

Jensine eyed her a teasingly. "You have a crush on Lazlo, but he can't recuperate those exact feelings back to you, isn't that the case?"

Patsy's face burst open into shades of deep red as she was reduced to near-gibbering. "H-how'd you know anything about that?! And it's _not true_!!"

"I did for some time since you shook my hand. When I first arrived."

Nina was almost speechless. "Memory tapping with physical contact!? Your power really is Phenomenal!!"

Grertchen stared doubtfully at all three. "Okay, seriously, now you guys are scaring me. What is ANY of this going to mean for that Tournament?"

Jensine didn't think much about that; Patsy and Nina already explained it to her earlier when Gretchen left to talk with Ms. Mucus, an object of real admiration to the rough-skinned alligator. As they said, it was a series of harmless, and relatively plain activities that tested the mettle of the two gender-sensitive camps- and that there was nothing to worry about because the Squirrels usually won every time. So Jensine went back to their earlier talk.

"You know, even if Maion didn't like it at all, I actually wanted to watch out for him. I care about his well-being. I just hope he's not going to abuse his powers like a complete moron."

"Pfft, fat chance," Gretchen scoffed. Jensine eyed all three.

"Technically, the bean scouts came into possession of a Temperature altering machine that according to my calculations, fell off an airplane about a year ago. It was the hottest day of the year, and by some odd luck Jelly Cabin possessed it for a time. And they went crazy with it, not sharing it and even gaining on the Scoutmaster," said Nina.

"Huh!?" Jensine gawked. "Then how did you guys-!?"

"We have circulated air conditioning," Patsy said plainly, to which Nina added, "And an indoor pool!"

"Aside from that," Gretchen said, "Beans Scouts mess up almost everything they do. Bet your Maion will do the same."

"Gretchen!" Nina yelled. "I don't believe that's true. Jensine seems to have control over her powers. Oh, this is so exciting! The tournament's going to be totally interesting!"

Jensine nodded, then stared up at the ceiling. Her expression wandered into a sorrowful gaze. "You know, Maion may never have realized it, but I cared enough about defending him, to the point that I didn't actually feel like just a niece in his eyes. I guess... I feel more like his **sister**."

Another weird silence fell, during which Gretchen leaned over and whispered to Nina, "Serious _headcase_." Nina shot angry eyes at her, but both heard Patsy gasp. They both turned back toward Jensine, who looked as terribly pale as she sounded.

"Already a whole day and Maion's about to screw up..."

* * *

"Maion...? Maion, hey! Hey!"

"Woah! We've just hit a sharp bump!" Slinkman yelled from the front. "Everyone settle _down!_"

The sun was close to sunset, its rays falling through the thin window pane glass on the camp bus. The Fava and Jelly Beans were gathered almost in the same place near the back. Maion was lying horizontally on a wide back seat between Lazlo and Raj. His breaths came in shallow gasps. "You alright!? You don't look well."

Ping-Pong shook his head. "I think he's exhausted. Really exhausted."

"Hey, I had a cure for it!" Sampson argued, without actually having a reason to. "But I left it home by accident! _oooooh_, I really dropped the ball this time." Edward was also watching via over the seat bench close to the middle, not so green with envy for earlier. "Maybe he just needs water or something," Dave said.

Maion could hardly turn his head. "I'm... fine.... Lazlo?"

"Hmm...?" "I asked you earlier if I could... hold your hand right? Let me hold it."

"Why are thinking about 'Frienship Shakes' at a time like this?" Raj narrowed his eyes. "Raj that's not it. I..." Lazlo felt even deeper sympathy; and he wasn't to turn down his friend's request. "Sure. But... your hands have been glowing really brightly for some time now, is that safe?" Without actually knowning why, Lazlo did grab his hand. The sickly face of the wolf stiffened incredibly, like his entire being reacted to such a strong and threatening presence.

Nothing happened, so Lazlo began getting frantic. "Raj, Clam, come on, take his hand also!" Clam didn't wait a second more; he considered Maion his friend; Raj was shaking all over, but he stuck his hand in there as well. "I don't know what this is supposed to do!"

"... Is something supposed to happen?" Sampson said. "He looks not alive."

The words had a bad effect on everyone around, who began to feel afraid of Maion lying there. The face of the wolf began to loosen up; he didn't look any calmer, but it was slightly relieved- but then it spiralled into a drastic switch to a serious face. "Clam's family is middle american, poor. I see this; Raj came from India. That, and he immediately assumed Clam was some regular bus boy."

"O-kay, why are you saying this?" Raj asked, but Maion was almost a far cry from his voice. Maion kept going with, "And... Lazlo."

"Are looking at my past?" Lazlo was filled with excitement. "What are you seeing?"

"Fruit. Lots of fruit. All kinds! Like bananas, apples, oranges, grapes, and raspberries. Your parents moved you here to America, all the way from... Brazil."

Lazlo gasped. He knew exactly what was in his past, so it was supposed to help alleviate his... condition, right?

At the front of the bus, Slinkman kept nervously glancing at his watch every five minutes, a bad habit, he knew, because it should've been the road. They were already coming up on Camp Kidney. _How'd it get this late already? Prickly Pines isn't too far away. Well, at least the campers aren't being noisy... huh. That's odd. _

Maion found the strength to sit up straight; but his hands didn't stop glowing, making Dave say, "Okay, can you tell me what's up with your hands?! You look like you have a mini-explosion going on in each!"

Maion looked jet-lagged and the tone of voice was slow. "I really... don't know- I think, making the geyser burst open _was _too much for me to handle."

"You shouldn't have done it," Sampson told him. "If you knew it was going to turn out that way."

"I know but, I really wanted to prove I could..."

"Hold on!" Lazlo burst out yelling. "You don't have to prove anything, we like you nonetheless! Haven't we told you before?" "Like!" "Thanks, Clam."

Maion sheepishly frowned upon hearing this. "Ah... you're _right_, but I wasn't thinking at all."

"Big surprise," Edward said through closed teeth, from behind his seat. " 'Hangs out with Jelly Cabin' for almost an entire day...'"

Raj was still afraid for another reason, "What is with the glowing in your hands? Explain that!" The aura around the hands jumped another bright leg, visible enough to be seen from the bus. Maion groaned sadly.

"I don't know. Something's going to happen. I can't tell what it is!"

Ping-Pong's face fell as he kept looking back to the front of the bus, and then towards Maion like a dear caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. "How IS it that Slinkman doesn't notice this happening!?" he gawked. Whatever he thought, now some of the other minor campers sitting in the front began to notice. "His magic is probably unpredictable."

"This is... some kind of trick right? Right!?" The floor of the bus began to rumble, and the light was getting more intense with each second. Every second the faces of the Fava Beans, Pinto, and Jellies were filled with a confusing mix of awe, amazement, and horror, not knowing what it was they were looking at, not certain if it was something they should've stopped. It was obvious this was no trick, and it was really happening.

They all expected the worst till the light died out as quickly as it had appeared. The simian was paralyzed still, shaking his knees.

"What the-!?" He was staring wide-eyed at something he was carrying. "When did we get _these?!_"

The simian saw that Maion's hands were still glowing, but not as brightly as before. Maion settled down more peacefully than ever, looking strongly at ease. But that wasn't what snatched the spider-monkey's attention in cold sweat; Lazlo didn't remember ever packing a pair of two strange-looking swords in each furry grip.

They were all spidery; with very sharp tips at the edge. The sun sneaked an appearance at it, exposing its' deep bronze color. Lazlo's overwhelming fear was shadowed strongly by confusion, having no idea where these came from.

The others had a vaguely similar reaction upon snapping out of their shock-like trance. Somehow, most of them, The Fava Bean, Pinto, and Raj were... holding weapons also, different ones.

Sampson, who'd fallen on the floor, shook out of his gaze, his glasses nearly diving off his nose. "W-What... just happened!? Huh!?" Sampson had a book lying across his knees, which was oddly fixed to a wooden staff. Ping-Pong and Dave snapped out of a trance to find each holding a very strange pair of folding fans. Raj was surprised, and frightened by the sight of a regular-looking sword with an average sheen in his left hand; Clam didn't have anything in his hand. Edward had fallen out of his seat, close to Lazlo, and he was carrying a much broader, bigger sword. All the other campers who'd seen that incredible flash of light were also carrying something like Lazlo and his friends.

"What's _going on _back there!?" Slinkman yelled from the front of the bus. To their surprise, he had seen the bright flash. The bus less than a mile away from the seaside city. "What was that large flash!?" still driving and still focusing on the road, Slinkman couldn't do anything to go back there and check just yet; they needed to get a spare tire.

Quickthinking as usual, Edward didn't take long in analyzing the situation and then thinking up a solution. "NOTHING! We're playing... with Sampson's flashlights!" It was a sound excuse, flawless; Sampson _was _afraid of the dark and his parents sent him two "Triple DC-powered Flashlights" last summer. Those particular flashlights were bright enough, _and _powerful enough, to burn through a tent prop.

That seemed to satisfy as an excuse. Slinkman knew well enough about Sampson's flashlights and yelled back, "Fine, but keep those off, they're distracting!"

Ping-Pong didn't have a lot of time to feel dismayed about what happened enough as he did for Edward's excuse, "Unbelievable. Nice, Ed."

"Raj? You okay?" Raj stared down at his unexpected trinket in confusion. "Uh, Lazlo? How long have I been holding this?" he held up the sword. "I don't remember bringing this with me from India..."

"Don't you Indians usually use Spears?" Sampson asked, to which Raj's response was, "What is THAT supposed to mean you _formerly-disease ridden _pig?... and in my country we use _traditional _swords, the Scimitars, _duh_."

"For-_GET ABOUT THAT! _What about what _Sampson _has?" Dave pointed out the strange book on the neatly crafted leg of wood Sampson was absent-mindedly holding.

Sampson felt multiple eyes on him, including Edward who noted, "Hold on, it's floating just above that stick. Wait, it's _floating!?_"

"That's physically impossible," Ping-Pong noted. He stared at his brother, dumbfounded by their odd prizes.

"Hold on! What about EDWARD's giant sword!?" the attention-starved guinea pig yelled at Edward, who was carrying something _exactly _like what Sampson described. "Have you always had that Ed-?" Lazlo began, but was brutally cut off by Edward's, "NO, I didn't! I own more cooler stuff than this! Eyah!" he threw down the sword, which made a _clang _sound on the floor. But on impulse he suddenly grasped the hilt again, not knowing why.

"And where'd you get _those_... huh, _Lazlo!?_" Edward sneered at the simian, who didn't perceive the remark as being sneer at all. Lazlo was still holding onto both weapons and said, "I don't... know, but... these are kind of cool..."

"See?" Raj rushed to his defense. "Lazlo doesn't- what did you say?! You think they're _cool, _what would make you say that?"

"I don't know, but... they are!"

Raj was finding it hard to believe. "Do you know who gave it to you??"

Lazlo simply hunched both shoulders, though the realization came frighteningly quickly as he stared towards a vacant-eyed wolf. "Did... you do this, Maion?"

Maion didn't wait a second to respond. "I did. But... my magic was unpredictable. I didn't know what was going to happen, I swear. I used it so many times and... and..." he trailed off.

"That's... SUPERCOOL!" Lazlo said. Maion jumped like he'd been bitten by a snake. "Wuh- what?" "You gave us weapons because you were thinking about your imagination! And then..." Lazlo visualized with estatic fancy, as the surrounding campers mouths fell open, "You wished for it to happen! You may not have realized it, but you were wishing so strongly that your magical powers have answered your star-lit wish, and without your knowledge have made it happen! That must be it!"

"Um..." Maion distantly said; he wasn't sure just how much credibility was in Lazlo's argument. Raj and Clam, who were the most faithful to Lazlo as friends, recognized when truth was right before them. Edward, narrowing his eyes to dagger slits, hissed, "You _actually _believe all that malarky you just said?"

"My... imagination? From _earlier_, when we talked in the camp? Are you really sure about that? It couldn't have been!"

"I'm positive! You wanted us to have these as gifts!"

"I really think you've just lost it, Lazlo," said Dave, "That _can't _be right."

"And what ARE these!?" Ping-pong barked while dangling the pair of bizzare-looking Fans that he'd been holding this entire time. "Early Etruscan treasure? This thing looks so ancient... but like in a _brand new _way. They have _spikes _on it and I've been told my our mommy not to play around with spikes!"

"And I don't think my parents would approve of me coming home with a... floating Book-on-a-stick," Sampson interjected. "It looks old and cheap and it's got..." Sampson inspected the stick closely; it had very elegant grafts on its' edges, with a resilient brown sheen. Sampson felt a little shaky from even holding it. "Weird spiky edges on it. Hey, why'd you _give _me this anyway? What is this...?"

Maion's expression lingered over to Sampson. "That's a **Grimoire**," He said suddenly, like was merely mentioning the time of day. "You have one, because... you're obviously not a fighter."

Ignoring the strangeness of the situation, Sampson was horribly offended by those words, seeing as how everybody knew that to be true. "That's not funny!"

Edward threatened to burst out in laughter - and so were the others. "Oh yeah. Yeah it is," the platypus said, "You're the wimpiest camper in Camp Kidney! You _would _get a book! It totally fits-!"

"But you can make it up by casting **magic **like me, with the spells in there," Maion interrupted.

Edward stood in shock whereas Sampson's face strongly brightened. "WHAT!?" "_Ooooh! _I've got to try!" "No! Not with Slinkman on the bus!" Raj said. "Pfft, No." Edward pointed towards the front. "We've been inside Prickly Pines." He rolled his eyes. "Next to the auto-repairs shop, I might add. Slinkman's been gone."

Sampson combed through pages, eager to try something, _anything _out; it was just like something out of a nerdy wizards game he played at home. Glasses fogging up with terrible impatience, Sampson made out the first words on the page he laid big eyes on. "Uh... _Fire!_... Nothing's happening."

"You have to concentrate," Maion explained. "Concentrate really hard, and you can make it happen." Sampson didn't need a lot of coddling, and calmed. He breathed, before whispering, "**Fi-!!!**" Everyone gasped as the flames broiled to life. Then Sampson closed the book before the spell could actually burn widly- they were on a bus, in a closed space, and Sampson couldn't risk it. Both Dave and Ping-pong said simultaneously, "That was-!!"

"The COOLEST thing I'd ever seen!" Edward yelled, trying to snatch away Sampson's book. "Let me try!" But whatever was planned, the moment Ed snatched away the book, it _flashed _out of his hand and back towards Sampson's. The only thing that was aggravating was simply knowing that for the first time, when Edward snatched something from a weak and helpless guinea pig, it didn't just _remain _in his hand like before. "What GIVES!?" He burst out screaming at Maion.

"Ah... well... the weapon belongs to Sampson," Maion said, "It's his personal keepsake now, and he can't be rid of it. And Ping-pong and Dave? Those pair of fans of yours... can also cast magic."

Dave was unable to say anything at all, but Ping-pong doubtfully said, "Are you just making all of this up!? There is NO way that can be-!"

"I'm _not_," Maion said. "M-Maybe my power did act on its' own and made these weapons, but I seem to be growing more aware about the way its' working. I just somehow, already _know _what they're capable of. And... You saw Sampson causing magic, didn't you? _Your_ weapons can cause **status effects**. Cause direct harm to health. You're **Macabre Dancers**."

Another awkward silence fell, followed by Sampon's, "Just keeps getting _weirder_."

Edward opened his mouth in defeat, but Lazlo yelled excitedly, "Isn't that neat, Sampson? You're actually a warlock!"

"And also... _your _class is something I wanna call **Twin Blade**," Maion said suddenly, stunning everybody. Lazlo let out a gasp and stared at his given weapons. He was still relatively clueless, having not a wit about what to do with them. "But uh... I don't get it." Maion, recovering a greater deal of strength, got down from the seat. He looked at the windows; everyone did, they could easily see that it was nightime, not only that but they had also arrived in Prickly Pines. "You know, I feel strangely better," he said. "Ah!"

Pretty much all the campers had arrived at the back of the bus; Slinkman could be seen in the shop adjacent to the bus.

"Fellas! FELLAS!" came the familiar Southern cry from the odd Walrus Maion had the pleasure to "meet" earlier, Harold. He was also carrying something of a weapon - a long smooth staff. "Check it out! I have a _magicky _weapon too!"

"As do I!" said another camper, holding up another Grimoire. More campers flocked around, till it got too crowded, Raj tried worming his way out to not be in the line, and Clam followed- that was the case, till he saw another camper carrying a weapon he almost didn't recognize.

"ALL right!" Edward fumed, cramped up in one corner of his seat, while trying to keep Maion in his sight. "What is GOING on!? Why are you doing this?"

Maion looked tired. "I really can't... tell, myself, but I want to call Harold as the first **Harvest Cleric. **He cures people."

"Neat!" Harold said. "But hey, what about _Goat_? He's got a weird-looking weapon thingy too!" With his immense strength, Harold easily pulled out a very generic and embarrassed looking bean scout carrying a large sword... with a barrel and gun trigger fixed to it.

"It looks kind of like a gun," said Chip, who remained silent the entire time.

_It's like the one I have. But that isn't possible! _The sight of that particular weapon startled Clam badly; he still remembered the bayonet he was secretly harboring from his friends, underneath his bunk, back at the camp. His thoughts chilled. _Is Maion really...?_

"It's a bayonet," Maion said. "I don't know if this is the case, but, I gave _Goat _one because I just _felt _he wouldn't handle magic as easily, but he can't attack at close range; this is a... compensation. He's now a **Steam Gunner**." This caused an uproar of cheers and jeers, but many of the campers were really tired. And the day, which had already ended, did not cease being any stranger than it was.

"Raj, I gave you a sword and-"

"Um excuse me, but this is TOTALLY nuts! I'm a very peaceful pachyderm! I wouldn't know how to fight."

"Raj," Maion interrupted him. "Do you dislike your camp being beaten by the Squirrels every year?"

Everyone just dropped open their mouths; Maion said a lot of strange things that were just off-kilter. "W-what is that supposed to mean!?" Maion put more force in his voice. "What I'm saying, is... I just realized that this could be the opportunity we're looking for. Campers!" He said this to refer to all. "I just got... the coolest idea! Maybe instead of mud puddles and things like tightropes and pine-coning sitting-!"

At the mention of such an, many of the campers cringed in terror. Maion continued. "I thought that we could hold a friendly tournament... with weapons like **Blademasters**, like Raj... and magic, and all sorts of cool things! We could actually win against the squirrels!"

"I like the "Friendly" part," Lazlo grinned. "That does sound like fun... but, I like the old competitions better, there wasn't anything wrong with them, right?"

Nobody answered. Edward was next to speak, his right hand shaking while still grasping the large blade, mouth foaming literally with excitement. "You're _really _something Maion. I honestly pegged you for a featherbrained Jelly Bean, but... you're more than that. Yeah, forget those dumb old-fashioned stupid challenges- I really do want to do this. I'm _sick _of losing to those squirrels all time." Edward stammered in his speech, but he really caught Maion's eye. "And I'm _sick _of our Camp being lame! For the first time, we actually have something _they _don't! Weapons... power... and magical wolf! This is the _real _thing! Who's WITH me!?"

It might have been the buried resentment he had, or simply that he was playing upon the beans, but the things he said stirred a strange feeling among them. They knew he was right, and though they didn't like to admit it, they knew they're was nothing cool about their Camp, nothing that would make them stand out as prominently as Acorn Flats.

But this felt like a chance in a lifetime; a rare arrowhead in the stream; a change in fate. Maybe Maion's arrival, and strange events of the entire day were only a mere coincidence, a chance they'd never have gotten.

One by one, all the campers minus the 3 jellies rose fists into the air like a flock of sheep. They raised a loud cheer, with Edward leading them.

The Jellies watched in a bit of disarray, whereas Maion cheered on with the rest. Clam looked in Maion's direction, to see that Maion was looking unusually happy.

-

**A/N: I don't know where to start. This was a monster of a chapter. **

**There were a number directions this could have gone, but I'm running out of time to do something, and I was sort of out of ideas. Also, the stuff that happens in this story is just stuff I'm pulling out of my ass. **

**So... laters!**


	9. Pupil Color

**The reason for the late update... college things. Let's continue. **

_- _Previously:

_Maion shows himself to have magical powers. He also shows himself to be more sensitive than he lets on. Lazlo, Raj, and Clam eagerly volunteer to become his friends, despite the fact that he doesn't have full control of his magical powers. _

_Maion is a strange one indeed. A Wolf that seems capable of tapping into endless magical potential; he can create things from out of the thin air. Lazlo is in such awe... and so is Edward, who discovered this fact after Maion demonstrated so by curing Sampson of his illnesses completely. _

_At the same time, Patsy and her friends have a magical visitor also; her name is Jensine, Maion's older niece. _

_But back in Camp, Maion's power undergoes unexpected tests by Edward and the story-hungry Loons that keep hounding him like a... a dog. Lazlo eagerly defends him anyway. _

_Maion acts more mature and more in control, greatly impressing Lazlo, but even more so, Edward, who's looking for an opportunity to get Maion alone. Somehow, because of Maion repeatedly straining his powers, the tire on the bus gets a small leak, and Slinkman, unaware that Maion's actually magic, decides to take the Campers to Prickly Pines to get a replacement. (Little does the party know that Lumpus and Hoo-hah have already gone ahead of them.) _

_Close to Sunset, Maion's powers reach a breaking point, SURGE, and are released in a flash of light. In the onset, some of the campers gain _weapons_, a strange thing to happen indeed. At first, they are in shock, because they don't know what to do with them, and they might get in trouble. But after thinking it over, and with Maion's urging, they all decide that with Maion on their side, they'd have an opportunity to one-up the Squirrel Scouts of Acorn Flats. _

**Loading **

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**Load: Pupil Color**

**Loaded**

He flipped up the the left most finger, the left-middle finger, the middle, and the last two. He flipped them all down and balled the hand into a fist, and... he didn't know what to think. Maybe because he'd forgotten that hand was actually his own. Attached to the thing they called an... arm, which was attached to the body by shoulder, and that...

"This is the finger, my hand, but... what about everything else?"

That disconnected sentence was all the convincing he needed; now he was trying to think of a name as he bolted off the couch and hit the wall.

_THWACK!_

Despite the fact that his face made full frontal contact with the wall, his brain felt no such sensation at all. He didn't scream or yell or holler in pain, but simply backed away from the wall, then saw the obvious hole he missed, and ran out.

"_Mr. Hoo-vis!_"

Half the 200 opened books lying around Gordon had sheep-skin stains lying on some of their trimmed edges. They were books about teaching english, and facts about aliens; but a bunch of useless facts. Gordon put strips of leftover dried bacon as bookmarks: he was very conservative.

It hit him, as it did in the last couple of weeks, how useless these books turned out to be. This was what he was thinking as the kid ran through the room. Startled when his name was called, Gordon tumbled off the mountain of books, and landed at his feet. "Uh..." "Gordon," he tossed into his mouth. "I did not recall immediately."

"Ah, don't sweat it laddie. Failure can motivate you know," Gordon got up on his feet once more. "What do you need, Kennedy?"

"Do you know where... um... Hovis is?"

"Uh... he's two flights of stairs and 3 corridors to the right upstairs dusting, but, why?"

"I forgot what the rest of my body is!"

Cards never looked as colorful, but as he read it, the grey cat became excited.

"3 spaces down left, cross sideways and behind the red plastic car vamp... You get a free Ride to just before the FINISH LINE! WOOHOO!"

Conroy was all angles in the rest of his miniscule frame, had a round, adorable face that looked like melted butter when he smiled, and had a dark grey ring around his left eye. It felt like coincidence, when he returned two of Waffle's newts back to the house, and he saw odd and portly Gordon McQuid at the door. This was about a week ago. "You know that means I'm going to beat you, right?"

Baffled, the grey kitty-cat's mouth dropped open like a conveyor belt. "WHAT? B-But the red spinny-thing _said I _was close to the finish line and the Green card said I'd won lots and lots of money."

"Uh, Waffle? This isn't Monopoly or that kind of game," Conroy explained. "You're actually close to losing." To prove that he wasn't lying, Conroy leaned over the game board and pointed with his smooth claw at the abstract "horse" piece lying at one end of the board, marked, _LOSE_. Waffle swore he'd looked at the rules 3 times, then he looked at them again; then he looked at the board, which from his perspective didn't "look" right. The graphic marked at the bottom of the board had a skull and crossbones... a grim reminder of losing.

"Oh... " he said after a long silence, before suddenly screaming at the top of his lungs, "_NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!_"

"Hovis? Hovis?" Kennedy didn't see the odd old man around anywhere, but he heard a nasty noise. Something whirring really loudly in the distance. It was coming from an open room. As he walked in, the butler was standing there, simultaneously handling a feather duster on an antique vase and a large vacuum on soft carpet. He had both eyes closed; it made sense considering that he'd been going at his job for 30 years.

The old butler stopped the vacuum and said in a very placid voice, "Ah, Kennedy."

"I need your help, old man." "With your manners?"

"What are those?" the strange boy with green hair asked dimly. "Is it something you taste?" He didn't have any idea.

It was the response Hovis expected; such was the character of Kennedy. "Old man?" "What is it?" "... Is manners... something that... taste?" Kennedy titled his head and stood there with the focus of a dog awaiting his master's orders. "No. Manners is part of being _polite_," the butler explained, but it was annoying having to do so. This kid didn't look like he'd understood. He was right; Kennedy looked satisfied with the answer and dropped out the door. But just as quickly, Kennedy came walking back in, with the strange pleading dog eyes. "What is it now, Kennedy?"

"I don't know... what this?" he stammered out poorly. He was using both arms to indicate himself; Hovis was less than surprised. And irritated; he had no time for this, he had to get back to work, or Blik would pile on the chores again. "_Yourself_?" Hovis grieved. Kennedy stood there, unable to give the "yes" or "no" answer; he didn't have a handle on that yet.

"Your body?" Hovis inquired more specifically. "The chest and rib cage are connected to the bones that make up your limbs." _If you have any. _

But all Kennedy could say was, "Oh," as if it wasn't that important. But he wanted to be sure. "I needed to know this... is that. My body."

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to finish cleaning up the room."

Kennedy didn't nod or shake his head, so Hovis assumed he'd leave anyway. As he went back to dusting the vase, he was irate to see Kennedy still standing in the same spot. What? Did he not know when it was time to leave?

The butler stopped and asked, "Is there still something with which you acquire my assistance?"

Kennedy tried hard _this _time to make an attempt to answer. "Ah... um... no."

"Huh. You actually found a tongue."

Kennedy panicked, kept turning his head around, and cried, "A What! Where?" "I mean the thing in your mouth."

Kennedy looked suspiciously at him and said, "I didn't... put anything in the talking hole."

Hovis slapped himself in the forehead and opened his mouth to indicate _tongue_. "I don't get it," the strange boy shrugged. "You're eating something?"

"It's called a tongue. The device you use to speak."

Kennedy began to understand. "Oh! It makes the sounds out of my... my, uh..." "Mouth?" "Mmm-hmm." "Good, now get out. I'm busy."

Kennedy was going to ask about what "busy" meant, but the black cat entered- or the bottom half concealed underneath a large fibre ballast. "Hovis, I will _require _all of these washed, dried and CLEANED in about an hour, got it?"

"Of course, Mr. Blik." With that, business seemed to jump back into regular swing. Hovis exited out of the room, while Kennedy stood there at a loss.

"... Waffle for the last time, it's not possible that Conroy _cheated_. He WON. The rules of the game were pretty airtight."

The response was a Waffle's own airtight and possibly unfazed look of unreadable stupidity. Gordon didn't know what his simple brother was thinking, but if, and hardly, if Waffle was trying to look convincingly serious, he was going to have an especially hard time holding a Newt to the left side of his head and a stack of Game instruction Play cards to his right.

"But I'm telling you!" Waffle whined to his brother, "It's gotta be some kind of MAGIC!" "Uh, what?" "MAGIC, like the Wizards of Waverly Place!"

_A terrible show, in my personal opinion, _Gordon was thinking, causing a smirk on his face he tried hiding. "Cause... _CAuse_, If he rolls the DICE, move THE PIECE, SWIM TO SHORE, RIDE THE RAMP, Pet the chicken, _color canvas, break the wind, and rolls past the window, over the hedge, through the road and into the Ocean- _It's FOOLPROOF!"

The fat cat didn't say anything for about a minute and a half. "Uh, Laddie? You sure you're not taking this a WEE bit too seriously?"

What happened was Waffle kept darting his eyes in several directions, hoping to find a way out of making a 'legitimate' answer to Gordon. But nothing beyond Gordon, an Ottoman, a lamp, a shade, a window, Conroy, the fancy nice rug Hovis had vacuumed, their mothers' picture, a slovenly bookcase, a counter, the smell of bacon and a table coaster seemed applicable. The doorbell rang, and suddenly a wild idea leapt into Waffle's head. "Maybe Kimberly would like to play a game?"

Something overcame Gordon like a rising wave and he screamed, "The Human Kimberly!" before nearly mowing down his brother as he ran towards the front door.

"Smooth," Conroy said. "So who's Kimberly?"

Waffle rose up with a sized imprint of Gordon's paw on his face, and blinked a couple of times. "Kimberly's a human girl."

Conroy laughed, thinking he heard his new friend wrong. "A human Girl friend?"

Ernest crawled into the room and sat complacently on top of the grey feline's round head. "Well she's more than that for Gordon."

"Hey Gordon!" Kimberly greeted her feline companion with glee. She was very happy knowing that she could see her odd friends at any time. For Gordon, their meetings were quite different: Kimberly never seemed to notice when "hearts" were bubbling behind Gordon's pupils.

"Aye... heh, heh," Gordon chuckled. "Human Kimberly! I'm so happy that you came! How have you been, dear?"

"I'm great! Take a look at this!" She seemed pretty excited. Gordon reverently believed, _she must be falling for me! Aye, it's GOT to be love! She couldn't resist my charms for very long. _

Kimberly could barely contain her excitement. She reached in her pants pocket, and pulled out a large paper with the words "Biology test" written at the top. Next to it was a "B+" circled in red marker. "I made a good grade in school today!"

Gordon was thrilled to hear such news, that he grinned from ear to ear; his heart kept beating faster. Though she'd never know it, he was just happy, knowing his beloved was happy. "Aye, that's Wun-derful news, Human Kimberly!"

"It was a _really _difficult test," Kimberly explained. "We were studying the whole Big Bang theory and also when the first human appeared, and also the animal instincts that they adapted to survive the harsh environment. Oh! And the teacher showed us "Quest for Fire" on the day before the test!"

Gordon hadn't heard of such a movie, but he nonetheless sought a good reason to keep talking with her. He was hopelessly in love; and he didn't watch a lot of movie that _didn't _involve things such as Scottish myth turned _media_, or _horror_. "Oh? What was the movie about? Adventurers questing for _fire_ from the all-powerful 2-headed Schappenslung?"

Kimberly stared oddly at the cat's uttering of the last word, unable to understand. "Um... no, it was about cavemen and how modern conventions were started in their quest for fire to keep their tribe alive. Like education!"

Gordon swooned, though he wasn't actually listening; his concentration honed in on Kimberly's _shining _brown sugary lochs. "Those _are _some incredible things to know, human Kimberly," he sighed.

"Gee, thanks Gordon!" she said cheerfully. Upon hearing those words, Gordon's mouth trembled, watering up with drool; his eyes widened up, to the size of tea cup plates. In his view, her voice was honey and her body was lit up like an angel. He couldn't find the words to form any reply, if any, and it was making Kimberly look worried. "Uh... Gordon? Gordon? Something wrong?"

Gordon 'snapped' out of his dream gaze (to avoid letting his relatively clueless lass become aware of his secret feelings) and coughed, "N-Nothing! Um, how would you like to come inside?"

Kimberly brightened up. "Sure!" she said, stepping inside. As she stepped inside and Gordon closed the door she yelled, "Hey, Waffle!" The grey cat ran into the hallway (forcibly causing Ernest to fly off), and then grinned, bounding over to grab Kimberly in a hug. "Kimberly!" Both arms were around her waist, but over a sensitive place, making Kimberly giggle uncontrollably. "He-he-he-he-he-he-he-hey! W-w-what's up Waffle!"

"Nothin!" Waffle cheerfully replied. "I was just playing a game of _Rainbows and Rotted Pinwheels_ with my new friend, Conroy... till he _cheated _and Gordon was telling me that couldn't be possible because the rules were airtight and then I was darting my eyes around the living room frantically looking for a reason to avoid responding to that and then I told Gordon that you might be at the door when the door was being knocked upon and then I discover that you were actually at the door which makes me a LIAR!... so uh... how it's going?"

Kimberly blinked indifferently. "Yeah... um, maybe that's... did you say _Rainbows and Rotted Pinwheels_? And who's Conroy?"

Conroy stepped out, curious about what was going on. "Present! You _called_?" he said suggestively, lifting his paw out in a shake. "Oh. You're that "human Kimberly" Waffle was talking about. Nice to meet you."

Kimberly shook the paw. She felt wholly complimented because the homely looking cat had such a polite manner about him. "You're Waffle's new friend? Aw! You look so cute!" the hand-to-pawshake extended into a sudden grip and then Conroy found himself on the recieving end of a bear hug. Kimberly held him tight, squealing. "H-hey! LET ME GO!"

Conroy jumped out of Kimberly's knit embrace brushing himself off. "You're too much!"

"Too much?" Kimberly didn't understand what he meant. "What are you talking about?" she asked innocently.

Gordon jumped over to her side, being unnecessarily defensive. "_I think_ that she's just _right_. Kimberly is NEVER too much for anybody!"

Conroy raised an eyebrow and grinned. "That _quick _to be at her defense? I wasn't trying to sound-!"

"Yeah, well _nobody _likes a lad with a bit of Attitude!" the warrior cat snapped. Conroy decided this was probably a good time to back down. Waffle looked too confused to figure out what was going on. "Is this a new game?"

"What now?" Conroy asked.

"Playing "Stare face"!" Waffle exclaimed. "I wanna play! I'm really good at it!" Then without waiting for a response he jumped right in front of Conroy and stared wide-eyed at him. "You won't _cheat_ your way out of this one," he said.

"Huh? Weren't we playing one before?" "No, why would you ask! This one has eyes!" Ernest picked an odd time to crawl into the hallway, up to his master and then re-situate itself on his soft head. Clearly that newt did not like being moved. "And Newts!" Conroy didn't seem to get it was a staring contest, and blinked anyway. On that note, Waffle burst out yelling, "I win! WOO-HOO!"

"Waffle, I _don't _think he was actually playing," Kimberly tried telling him. Gordon however stepped off to the other side and started sizing up the mischievous feline. "Hey now lads, that's a GREAT idea! We'll settle it by having a good old fashioned _staring contest_! The Battle of pupils! the POPPING of veins in eye sockets... the watering of the Cubozoa!"

"There is NOTHING _Kewl _about _Bozos_, now quit distracting me!" Waffle snapped without staring at his brother. Conroy shrugged his shoulders, still in the dark about Waffle's 'challenge'?

"This got too weird for my tastes," said Conroy, who looked down and exposed a short watch attached to his wrist. "And I've got to go anyway. It's getting late. Pops is probably worried sick."

"Time for you to leave already!" Waffle whined sadly. "But we were playing a game!"

Gordon chimmed in with, "Yeah, and lad, it's only 5:00. How could you be late in going home?"

Conroy chuckled warmly. "Eh, my Dad usually has supper WELL prepared in advance. You know how Tom is. He'll kill me on the spot if I'm late for supper!"

This bit of suggestive information sank down into Waffle's skull like a legion of bats; his mouth fell open in shock. "You mean your DAD'S A KILLER! A Murderer!" He burst out screaming.

Conroy looked less than surprised that Waffle misread him instantly; but he didn't want him to get the wrong idea. So to Waffle's extremely fearful paranoid eyes he said, "Waffle, I don't LITERALLY mean my Dad will kill me, I just mean, you know, what with the sharp yellow eyes and everything, he's going to work me over."

Gordon gave a sharp whistle that dissolved into a very odd grin. "You wrestle with your Dad, lad?"

"A lot. And if I lose this time, I have to... _do the dishes_," he said unfavorably, shuddering at the thought. Given the number of "siblings" he put up with, the chores were a challenge from start to finish. But as he walked toward the door his face brightened up, and even his stride got a little more energetic. "But if I win, it's a Chug-a-lots-a-root-beer Evening for me!" he said with perky enthusiasm. "See you around, Waffle. Maybe when I come back next time, we can finish that _Rainbows and Rotted Pinwheels_ game, right?"

"Sure!" Waffle cheerfully said. "And maybe I'll totally whoop your butt in the staring contest!"

Conroy was _just _in earshot and as he pulled the door behind him he pause and then popped his head back in to tell Waffle, "Riiiiiiiight..." before diving back out again. This time he was really gone. Now it was just the two cats and Kimberly in the hallway.

Waffle was still thinking Conroy was standing there and yelled, "Right! Staring Eyes! Tomorrow!"

"Wow! He's really amazing," Kimberly said.

Gordon was a little jealous. "Eh. He wasn't _that_ great. Don't let him steal your heart..." _Please notice me, for once,_ he thought despairingly.

"Huh? What'd you say Gordon?" Kimberly didn't catch the last half of what he said. "Oh, I said, "Don't let him steal your _HUNGER. He-he, yeah_. H-hunger is what I originally _said, me _bonnie lass!"

Luckily, Kimberly bought the bogus substitute. "Um, sure? I am kind of hungry..."

"Me too, lass..." Gordon sighed. "Me too." _Whew! She doesn't suspect a thing! _But at that moment, Gordon's belly picked that exact moment to growl. Turned out he really was hungry; it was quite a surprise to him, even. But this event suddenly gave him an idea. _Great Gopher that's it! _"Oh, Human Kimberly! How would you like to stay for dinner?"

Kimberly gave the Scottish cat a mildly hard stare that melted to one of flattery and excitement. "That sounds neat! Sure, I would love to!" Gordon put out a very detached expression saying, "Ah, you'll love the food Hovis cooks, he's impressive!" But in the back of his head he was swooning with romantic excitement: _Yes! she's going to STAY! I'M going to eat with the Human Kimberly! WOOHOO!_

Waffle stopped halfway past the opening to the living room and gave both Kimberly and Gordon a hard stare. "I'm making dinner tonight, Gordon."

"What?" Gordon thought there was something in his ears, after hearing that last sentence. That was why he burst out yelling at his brother.

Waffle had no idea what Gordon was getting upset about. Surely _him _making dinner was not a bad idea, right? He said to his brother calmly as day, "Yep. I thought we could try this new dish I found out-!"

"Uh Waffle?" Gordon interrupted him, "Don't you remember the last time you tried _helping _make dinner?"

(_Insert poofy cloud sequence of the Cramdilly House overrun by Zombies, Zombies and more Zombies._)

Waffle didn't remember anything like that. It was like a black dot in his memory. "Uh, Zombies?"

Gordon gave a long, drawn out, "_Yeeeeees_?"

"There were never any zombies... were there?" Waffle asked. Then through an exaggerated paranoid detachment, "_was there?_"

"Lad, that night when Blik was his fancy-smancy dinner party and I told you to use the Blue Cook Book from the Green Room, _page 12_ to make some _dip_, and then you accidentally used the Green "Cook Book" from the Blue Room, _page 12_, which was _actually _a Scottish book of the Dead, accidentally reciting an incantation while creating a supernatural dish lure that unexpectedly drew out thousands of zombies in the inconveniently placed cemetery across the street that attacked us and nearly KILLED us?"

"No," Waffle answered. "Uh, um, was it that time we fought that giant squid?"

"NO, the one with the Zombies!"

"Uh...!"

Waffle honestly didn't remember, but it was such a full-blown experience; Gordon was immensely surprised this flew over his siblings head, but instead of admonishing him, he walked over sighing and said, "All right, lad, look, just use the _blue _cookbook this time. And please, _please _pick just a simple dish, ANY dish, maybe soup!"

Waffle's mouth curved into an excited grin. "Sooooup! Splee!"

"Yeah!" Gordon cheered. "Soup! Now just remember: _Blue _cookbook, _green _room,_ page 12, _understand?"

Waffle donned a serious face and did a soldier-style salute. "_Splee, sir. Splee,_" he said.

Once Waffle was gone, a white-faced Kimberly asked in a scared voice, "_Zombies? _You guys had _zombies _in your house?"

The fat cat waned sheepishly. "Uh... yes, I- wait. You heard me talking, weren't you paying attention?"

"You sure Waffle will get it right this time?" Kimberly asked without answering.

Gordon thought there was a positive side to it, then he remembered that Waffle couldn't possibly muck things worse than before. Regardless, he thought, he was amicable to let Waffle have another go; Waffle learned his lesson last time, so what was the harm? "I honestly haven't a clue."

_CRASH!_

The loud noise made both Kimberly and Gordon jump in a panic. As they turned around, they saw Mr. Blik in a disastrous heap at the bottom of the stairs. "Blik? What happened to you!" Gordon's voice rose to a yell.

Blik's voice was muffled, possibly hysterical, even as he raised his damaged head from the floor. "Dust on those CREAKY stairs."

(_Scene change_)

_Boom!_

The mucky room as usual was... well mucky. Blik's natural hate of the disgusting extended to nasty, unkempt looking rooms, and as such thought this room was so disrepair, so ramshackle, he stayed _away_. He asked Hovis not to clean it or _go _near it; the butler obeyed. Blik demanded firmly that Waffle and Gordon be as far away from it as possible.

Waffle loved the room; he didn't understand what _they _were afraid of. It was absolutely harmless. Ignoring the fact that it was in dire need of painting, interlaced with large cobwebs, faded wood libraries, stained windows with spooky owls hanging onto the sharp edges attached to the frames, cracked chairs with only 3 legs, and with the usual overturned books missing their squeaky hinges and missing pages containing stuff about cursed spells. Not to mention the pale-white curtain shades with torn holes. _Yep_, absolutely _harmless._

But as he stepped in, he paused. He thought, did Gordon tell him _Blue Cookbook_, green room, or was it _Green Cookbook, Blue room_?

"Uh... wait, I remember!"

_("Remember Waffle... __**Green Cookbook**__, __**Blue Room...**__")_

"Yeah! _Green Cookbook, Blue Room!_" That sounded right; Gordon couldn't have mentioned anything else important. He walked over to the exact same shelf and out of all the champagne-colored books stacked in top 3rd row, Waffle found the exact same emerald-colored spline. He pulled it out, laid it out on the open floor and tossed back the book's cover. Pages flew over, Waffle's mouth curled to a smile. His eyes widened with a strange, excited glimmer. The subtle off-white paper with the watermark text that swam with each page turner was alluring, almost like a magnet and, oh wow, _some_ of these recipes had weird-sounding paragraphs of text structured erratically, almost like a poem... why was that? Waffle almost thought about giving up and looking somewhere else but the next page he turned to was...

_Splee! I found it! _Waffle thought gleefully.

The top left corner was bone in the pale dwindling sunlight, the text at the center was substantial and small and when he ran his paw over it, the texture was akin to a pop-up card. But Waffle wasn't paying attention to that. The thing that jumped out at him was the bold text at the top of the page that read:

"**Apocal Ypse SOUP**"

And Waffle was ecstatic with joy.

"NO!"

"But Blik..." Gordon cried. "Don't do this."

But Blik kept yelling anyway. "ABSOLUTELY _NOT!_"

Blik and Gordon were all gathered around the yet-to-be-furnished table talking. Kimberly, having nothing better to do, was looking over her test grade. The fact that this was the first real grade she hard earned for all that hard effort made that her greatest joy.

"I KNOW the lad messed up last time-!"

Blik adapted a more nasty tone. "Uh-uh. _NO_, _screw that_."

"Blik, why?"

Blik's mouth turned into an admonishing leer. He was biting down on the jawline, narrowing his eyes to slits. "Because ever since _that_ incident... I'm _still, _to THIS day, washing off that filthy, _nasty _ZOMBIE grime..." He paused to draw in a heavy breath for unnecessary dramatic effect. "Off my supple, _perfect _fur."

Gordon retreated into a indifferent tone. "Blik, brother, it was NOT. that. Bad."

"WATCH YOUR TONGUE!"

"We _fought them off! _As WARRIORS!"

"Oh _sure_," Blik cynically rebutted, "And BADLY, cause we ended up getting our furry butts handed to us ANYWAY!"

"But Waffle saved us, remember! And he learned his lesson, didn't he?"

"The only thing _learned_," retorted Blik, "Was something. By me. Having to do with Waffle and lasers. And how I wouldn't let him near any lasers again."

Gordon acted reproachfully. "You never let him near any lanterns."

"So?" Blik snapped. "Those HUGE florescent yellow tinted lights will hurt his eyes."

"Also because _you don't _want to waste the batteries power."

Blik went on being overly-defensive. "Those Quadruple AAAA's are GAS guzzlers! They're_ expensive! _And freaking heavy... "

"You took his _Flashlight _out of his drawer," Gordon said.

"Fire hazard," Blik hissed. "FIRE!"

An exasperated Gordon sighed. "Es CLOTHES ain't flammable!"

"Well HOW am I supposed to know that Flammable and _Inflammable _are the SAME THING!" Blik yelled, jumping into the air.

"What the heck are you talking about! You even took his Newts' Sunlamp!"

Well he had to give it up for that; Blik snickered like a little girl and laughed. "Hehehehe... yeah..." But just as quickly his eyes narrowed to horror. _On the other hand that WOULD explain why those Newts have been on my case this past month... _"Either _way_," Blik sneered, "I'm not letting, _allowing, or __**APPROVING **_the "Dipmaster" to cook another _meal in this HOUSE!_"

Gordon wasn't sure if it was the emotions pounding against the logic, but he rose to his brother's defense; it was predictable. Gordon would get tired of his brother's ocassional hissy fits and episodes of lack in anger management. "Waffle is NOT a bad cook!"

"You can keep saying that till the cows come home, _Gordo_ _McFathead_. But I'm NOT going to run the risk of _ME _being the one who has to pump Kennedy's stomach the moment he tastes Waffle's chemical disaster!"

Kimberly raised her head at the two bickering cats. "Who's Kennedy?" she asked.

Both cats looked like they were caught in a traffic light; they ceased arguing. "Oh, you don't know about Kennedy yet. That's right," said Gordon.

"He's an ALIEN, don't talk about him," Blik snapped, trying to hush up the whole issue. Gordon glared daggers at his brother, who showed absolutely no tact in holding back sensitive information like that. It didn't help when Kimberly started to ask, "You mean like an extraterrestrial? You have an Extraterrestrial living in your HO-!"

"NO! It's _nothing like that!_" Gordon was screaming. "He's a _normal, _HUMAN-looking guest! Ahh..." It was Blik's turn to send a towering, nasty sneer at Gordon for his "Interesting" choice of words. The fat cat felt cornered; and he didn't want to lie, but his mind went through a hundred thousand choices of words till he ran into a wall, and screamed, "He's an Orphan!" that sounded convincing, and completely inconspicuous. "Yeah... an orphan."

Kimberly was still confused, the vacancy still obvious in her expression. "It's an _orphaned _alien?"

"Smooth, Gordo. _Now _the cat's out of the bagel." He paused thoughtfully. "And I freaking _hate _using those puns."

"SHUT UP, BLIK!"

Kimberly smiled happily, with a joyous cry of, "That's great!"

Gordon tried not stammering, but he was too choked up by Kimberly's fawning affectionate approval. "I-It is!"

Kimberly laughed. "Of course! You're giving a home to an orphaned alien that has nowhere to go and feeding and clothing and helping him and potty training him! You guys are so lucky!"

_She thinks I'm LUCKY! _Gordon thought his heart would burst out of his chest from the heavy beating in his chest. _She thinks I'm responsible! _His thoughts were mixed into the imagery of him and Kimberly being... _parents!_

"Y-You know, you could always come by here and help us take care of him," Gordon said dreamily, without realizing he _was. _As usual, Kimberly didn't seem to notice. "We can change it's diaper, feed it bottles! Oh, and my mom told me that babies usually need to be pat on the butt to force out the burps!"

Blik kept looking back between his slack-jawed brother and unreceptive, oblivious love interest like they'd _both _came from another _planet_. He snickered. "In your dreams! Ha!"

Kimberly didn't know what he'd meant. "That's not nice, Mr. Blik! Don't you take care of babies that way?"

"Okay, for starters, _I _don't _HAVE _any experience taking care of _babies_, I let drones do that. Like Hovis," he casually explained. "In the NEXT hundred places, I DON'T, **I**, _Mr. Blik_, the _creme de la creme,_ don't take _no _orders from no freaking poop machine."

At this Kimberly's face soured. "Blik that's so MEAN! How can you be so mean to the wittle baby?"

Even the fat cat joined in with an angry, "Yeah, Blik! How can ya be so MEAN to the WEE wittle baby!"

Blik ignored him. "FINALLY," he snapped at Kimberly. "We're _not _talking about some 3-year-old drool-monger, he AIN'T NO THREE, HE'S _THIRTEEN, YOU CHICKEN-LIVERED BOARD-WACKED PANSY-WHIFFED GLOBSMUCKERS!_"

"Thirteen!" Kimberly screamed. "But how can that be? I mean he's an orphan right? That would mean he's younger than that, right? Did you find him yesterday outside in the city?"

Blik scoffed. "Are you kidding?" the snobbish feline laughed. "No! We found him inside this HUGE meteor that crashed right in front of our house last month!"

Once she'd been told, Kimberly had no choice but to think back, and come to think of it, she _did _remember the earthquake that hit Bakersfield for an entire week, but nobody knew _what _the cause was. The Cramdilly house was such an out-of-the-way place, and a centered location of crazy heavy supernatural activity, nobody seemed to notice when something big would be _happening_.

"Wow..." she said in awe.

"And THAT'S not even the _weird _part," Blik went on.

Kimberly became curious. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, ever since this alien awoke, he acts like he's _attached _to someone. Cause back when he actually _came_, he didn't have any pupil's in his eyes," said Mr. Blik, grabbing a table napkin and wiping his paw with it.

"If he's an alien, then that doesn't sound surprising," Kimberly said, zoning out with wild thoughts. She was beginning to get nervous at the thought of meeting aliens. She had _no _idea what she would do if the 3 cats actually had one. "What kind of alien would have _pupils_?" she laughed.

Gordon shook his head. "Um... I think the kind of one where _this _alien would have a semi-permeable membrane around his skin that would make him sensitive to knowledge siphoning of any kind and thus transmit this as information to his cranium!"

Kimberly blinked.

"That's what happened, human Kimberly! It was WEIRD! He didn't have any pupils, then he got touched, _then _he suddenly had pupils, and then he started talking! You might as well have said that _this _alien wears his brain tissue like a _skin-_"

"GROSS."

"Shut it Blik. A-and every trillionth second he moves around the environment of the house inside _and _out is feeding him information at an intense speed. It's amazing I tells ya!"

"But he still acts like a brain-dead moron. You know, I heard that there was _sup-puh intelligent life out there" _but this kid-ALIEN, he's like a-a... a... a wet match, in a _dark cave._" Blik glowered unpleasantly. "Which would make him wet. And like a wet match! And I repeat my previous statement. GROSS."

"I believe you," said Kimberly. "I _never said_ I didn't. But didn't you guys touch him if you brought him in here?"

Gordon shook his head once more. "Blik suggested wearing gloves, we never actually touched the alien." Gordon looked at his brother, who nodded.

"So then, if he's that kind of alien that can receive information by just _touch _and become active, getting more information by just learning it, he sounds like... a... like a book without words. That someone's just writing in, making the book with words! This alien kind of sounds like a book without words."

Gordon grinned approvingly. "Hey, that's the most beautiful way of putting it, human Kimberly! It sounds like poetry!"

"I hate poetry," Mr. Blik spat.

"Just who exactly touched him and made him walk around?" Kimberly asked.

"Funny question," Blik scoffed. "With a surprise answer that will mostly likely fry your brain. It was-"

(_Scene Change_)

"I would greatly appreciate it if you _didn't _follow me," said the annoyed butler, handling a mixed assortment of tools, including a _ladder_. He had about as half the experience with the saw he was carrying as he _did_ understanding modern-day television. Trailing behind him was the expressionless, wide-eyed "Kennedy".

Hovis passed through the second laundry-room door to outside. The sky was clear minus the dismal number of clouds close in proximity. The sun's rays were relentless beating down on top of the butler's bald head. The good news was that his job wouldn't take very long.

Being a natural-born cheepskate that he was, Blik decided against buying a new window. So he decided to go ahead and have Hovis fix the one destroyed by himself. An odd turn of events. But secretly the 43-year-old was happy to be busy working around the house... if not for that.

"Very well then, if you're to just stand there, perhaps you can provide some assistance?"

Kennedy remained silent.

Hovis set up the ladder along the wall, and grabbed the hammer from the slot in his belt. He started climbing up the ladder, balancing on portion of the window frames in his left, and a hammer in his right. At the top was the broken glass; it was the same place that Waffle was thrown out of, along with that ridiculous CD player and the polka music. Hovis started by plying away the nails out of the first frame, grabbing each nail as they fell out. Kennedy was still standing below watching him with a dog's lingering gaze.

The sun was diving down towards the west. Hovis had removed the broken glass and frame, and was just putting in the new one. The job had taken no time at all. he breathed a sigh of relief, with THAT done, now he could-

He was agitated, and perplexed that the "Alien" was still standing there below. He was like a _dog_; expression unreadable with a one-track mind to follow its master around wherever he went. "Something wrong?" he said from the top of the ladder.

Kennedy didn't say anything.

"Not the type to talk normally, aren't you?"

Kennedy finally managed to open his mouth. "You are doing work."

Hovis cast a pitying glower below at the bizzare child. "That's the general idea. I'm _fixing _a window."

"Window. "WIN. DOW." You are fixing a window."

"That's what it is," Hovis answered, getting back to work. He climbed down to reach for the second frame, the new one he retrieved from the shed. He picked it up and went back up the ladder, adjusting his spine so he would not fall off the ladder holding onto the frame.

The window frame fit in like a glove. But now came the difficult part of putting in the nails; he knew he would have to reach down and get them, taking his hand off the slippery glass. There was no choice. He through a number of _safer _options till he thought, maybe he could hold the glass in his mouth, and grab the nails quickly. It seemed reasonable enough- until the real bad thing had happened. Attempting to quickly reach the nails in his pocket, he accidentally let the glass drop. "Ahh!"

The glass fell straight off the large window, falling below the ladder and the butler. But the glass did not hit the ground. By a strange coincidence the alien who'd been standing vigil at the bottom caught it. Hovis was in a rare form of relief that the glass didn't break. "Thank goodness... nice catch." He started climbing down to retrieve the item from Kennedy.

"... Catch," Kennedy said, without even knowing what it meant.

Hovis walked over, looking troubled- he didn't scream or look scared or anything, even knowing that a large sheet of glass had fallen towards him. That glass could have easily pierced his skin, due to its' sharp edges. But Kennedy was standing there holding it, the flat surface propped up horizontally on its' side. Hovis sternly ordered, "If it's no trouble with you, I would like that back, _please_."

"Catch," was all Kennedy had to say.

"Yes, that's particularly 2-dimensional of you," the old butler responded smugly. "Now learn this _new _trick. You _giiive_ that to _me_." Emphasis was put on "Give". This wasn't the first time that Hovis condescended to becoming a visual and vocal dictionary.

Whatever the _case_, Kennedy's mind was off kilter and could not register, let alone fulfil the request. Not seeing the conversation going any further, Hovis took the large sheet of glass away with meticulous ease. But just as quickly as he did, he dropped it, as his mouth did in shock. Both of Kennedy's palms had a nasty red streak running across them. A warm liquid was flowing off both like a miniature waterfall. Hovis seemed to forget the sensitive glass that crashed into pieces on the dirt. The agitation and indifference that were like old friends to him were a million miles away from him. His expression kept changing; going between the blood-stained hands and the subtle lack depth in that alien's large eyes. He couldn't stop staring at the blood, then at Kennedy's expressionless face, a complete hypocrisy of indifference that was ignoring or unable to understand the idea of pain.

"Add one gallon of Lizard guts..."

DROP! went the bottle of lizard guts into the pool. Waffle wasn't paying attention, immersed into the large "cooking" volume.

"_Add a WHOPING 3 pounds of FISH-head Sticks..._" Waffle read from the book, producing, as it read, 3 large netted bags of a stinky silvery substance with dead eyes and scaly faces.

"And recant... huh? "Re-_chant_ the hundred verses of the all powerful _zombies de las Romeroion, _turning ash into the day, _day into the unending night of sickness, TEMPTATION, CURSE MOON..._" Waffle forgot why he read it, and also that his mind was faintly touching on a very familiar scene of his memory, mirroring this _exact _situation... even that line in the book about the "chanting". Almost as if this was a situation he knew _too _well... "Oh well," he shrugged. "The soup isn't going to make itself! And it's gonna taste like delicious fish, too!"

So he said, as he continued stirring the large and stinky green soup with an garnish of parmesan cheese and peppers with the gigantic ladle he pulled from the "Gigantic Culinary Creation Tools" closet. The book demanded that the soup be stirred 10 times every 3 minutes for smooth perfection. Waffle was humming an old tune he heard off a cartoon show, one he couldn't recall immediately. The song had a nice beat in a background _and _a cheerful melody, both being his favorites.

"He's utterly hapless?"

"Aye! And the odd lad's been following him around like an aimless little puppy!"

"That sounds a lot like this thing I learned in Science and Biology class at school!"

"Like what, Human Kimberly?"

"Like you know how when a baby chick is born and the first thing it sees fully once its' eyes are developed is its' _**mom**_, and it immediately recognizes it as the leader, the person he's supposed to follow."

Gordon mulled it over, and realized that it _was _fairly decent description of happened. Kimberly's beauty, to Gordon belied her unappreciated genius. "Ooh, riveting," Blik mocked her. "That is completely stupid. I'm talking like Waffle's brand of stupid," Blik put in.

"What does Mr. Hovis think about all of this?"

Blik clapped both hands together. "What are you talking about?"

Kimberly tried again. "What does Mr. Hovis think about Kennedy following him around?"

Blik burst out laughing, "Oh-ho-ho, you silly, silly girl! Hovis doesn't think!"

"Blik!" Gordon yelled angrily at his murky-hearted sibling. The pointy-eared feline returned the angry gaze with a collected one. "Don't see what _your _problem is! She thinks he's _people! _PEOPLE, Gordon. PEOPLE."

Gordon could barely stomach the snobbishness of Blik, but he ignored him, nonetheless. "And you know, the first week after he started to speak, he was using... eh... very _colorful _language."

"Colorful language?" Kimberly echoed.

Gordon struggled to find the right words, but he came short to none. He did not desire to use anything that would sound offensive to the ears of his love interest.

"Curse words," Blik put in suddenly calmly and quietly. There was a subtle hint of enjoyment in his voice. "Profanity. Nasty talk, whatever you like to call it."

"BLIK!" Gordon exploded at his brother, raising over the length of the table, threatening to attack his brother.

"Oh my gosh!" Kimberly screamed. "Curse words? Did you spank him?"

Blik chuckled. "Don't worry about it. The weird thing it was, _this _only lasted a whole week! We had to blank out Waffle's memory like a trillion times, which WAS a pain." Blik's mind wandered back to the crazy machine in the basement, the one that wiped out minds of previous events. "Ho-ho-ho _man _it was _cur-razy!_ You'd have flipped your lids after hearing all the BAD language he used!"

Something bothered Kimberly, even though she was on the edge of her seat hearing layers upon layers of shocking facts about an alien she hadn't even _seen _yet. "He completely forgot all his curse words in one week? After an ENTIRE week?"

Blik darted his eyes away. Kimberly looked to Gordon who just simply nodded. Gordon wasn't lying.

"And it kept getting weirder after that," Gordon explained, but he didn't sound happy talking about it. "Things like flying chairs... exploding chemicals... scary howls into the Night... oohhh..."

It was sounding even less like an alien invasion and more like someone's screwed up version of a "mad scientist-esque" story, Kimberly decided. She thought it might not have been a good idea to listen anymore, though she did. Blik was the one who indirectly voiced her thoughts. "Sounds like some stupid ghost story, doesn't it?"

"Great gopher!" Gordon gasped. "You don't it's the... _Legendary New New Jersey Devil!_"

Blik was taking a great level of pleasure in putting down his not-so-intelligent brother's bizzare ethnic-based paranoia. "Legendary my _crooked little tail_. (JUMP) THEY DON'T EXIST." (_Plop!_) Blik gasped trying to take back in most of the air he used when bellowing. "Also Hovis said something stupid about Kennedy trying to offer him something _stupid _like a... _jet black _sword or something out of nowhere. Nothing important. Since when did _butlers_ get gifts! That BREAKS the natural order of things!"

Kimberly didn't know what else to do but blink. After an exaggerated gag fit, Blik jumped off his chair. "Man, I'm hungry! We got any snacks in the Kitchen?"

Gordon realized with horror where Blik was headed, and in a flash jumped off his chair to stop him. "B-Blik! No, wait! I don't think that's such a good idea!"

But Blik kept going, much faster than Gordon expected. He waved his hand over his shoulder. "What _you _call a bad idea, I CALL a pretty good idea. I _want a snack_, and a snack I will GE-!"

Blik didn't get to finish his sentence, as the second he stepped into the kitchen, he was blinded by both horror and _rage_.

"WAFFLE!"

It was becoming more difficult to tell the bizzare alien's personality, behavior, and actions apart from a common household dog. Kennedy didn't bat an eyelid, let alone move any parts of his body. He sat quietly on top of the toliet seat lid. He didn't it _was _a toliet seat lid. He didn't know what anything in the sanitized room was because he had trouble thinking.

Kennedy thought that Hovis looked ill. Ill people barely moved around; Mr. Hovis didn't look ill at all, but at the same time, Kennedy saw an _illness_ ailing him ever since he got a good look at his... things part of his body that held, carried, and touched things. _Hands_, Kennedy remembered, _hands_. His hands, covered from start to finish with a _slick _warmness that slid off his hands like a... a liquid. _Liquid_, Kennedy reminded himself. _Liquid_.

Hovis opened up the thing called a "Cabinet" pulling out a... round object, smooth except for a tacky, colorful covering with a lid having an endless number of edges on the side.

As he did, the shiniest surface he'd ever seen suddenly came swinging out, staring Kennedy in the face. But he didn't remember or was trying hard to remember that the thing staring at him in the face was not a monster- no. The face in shiny surface that reflected everything was his own.

Hovis pulled out a long strip of white that looked soft. He then closed the door with shiny thing- it was nagging Kennedy... he learned this, but he didn't remember. _mirrors_.

_(__**2 weeks ago**__)_

_"It's pronounced Mirrors! Mirrors are reflections!" _

_"... mirrors," it sounded like it was stunted._

_"Good, now open the book and read more of the words in the paragraphs." _

_"Wuuur-urds?" like it stuck out like a sore thumb. _

_"You're learning very quickly. I'm at a loss as to why you _needed _teaching_."

_But like a couple of times before, Kennedy's response was a stupid smile. Until this point, "gratitude" hadn't been properly covered. _

_"You could say "Thank you", you know. "Thank You" expresses a feeling of gratitude, Thankfulness. Say thank you." _

_But like a thief, the concept of thankfulness eluded Kennedy. The machine in his headr was unplugged and ceased functioning, and his arms felt like dead limp noodles. His whole body was rocked in some kind of seizure. _

_"Something wrong?" said the man with a shiny head. Shaken up by a nameless fear, Kennedy fell back on bed, clutching himself, hyperventilating. "Oh dear," said Hovis worriedly. "We'll just have to take a break." _

_Kennedy didn't know what break meant, but the sound of the word felt so heavy that he could almost feel like he understood the meaning._

It was a surprise; he remembered it.

Hovis sat on an opposite chair and said, "lift out your hands, now." Kennedy didn't know what to do so he did as he was ordered. He wondered _what _Hovis was planning to do with that white strip, but he didn't use it at all. Instead, he pulled out a grey bottle of liquid and poured over both of his palms. The warm red liquid vanished, to his indifference, and to Hovis' surprise.

"You don't feel anything? That was _alcohol_. It dissolves blood."

Kennedy didn't answer and drew a blank.

"You really need to be careful with sharp things, dear boy. You're going to sooner or later sustain an injury that can't be healed so easily."

Again there was no reply.

"Might be troubling, but, are you even _listening _to me?"

Kennedy had been taught to nod positvely and to shake his head dismissively when the situation called for it. He nodded because he was. "Yes," he said. "I listen to you and Gordon Cat."

The old butler's eyes widened humorously as started putting on the bandages. "He's not referred to as "Gordon Cat", as you so _bluntly _put it. He was the one who started teaching you separately." He was still putting on the bandages. It was baffling, he was fixing an injury from which an alien did _not _feel any kind of pain. But why was he worried about it? What was strange about an alien _not _feeling any pain? Whatever species "Kennedy" was, maybe it was an inbred race of super-intelligent lifeforms that were incapable of understanding things like regular humans. Nothing about this should've been strange.

But the way Kennedy didn't react to the damage his hands sustained; that empty _blankness_ he surveyed in his eyes, in all his movements, and his helpless idiocy- He didn't didn't even feel like like he came from _outer space _at all.

Shoot, if he was an alien, Hovis was surprised to learn that that another race of beings were out there with the _exact identical _limbs, arms, legs - all the things a normal human would have. He talked like a regular human, was learning to _eat _like one, and he even breathed like one. And the only reason this could have happened at all was when the butler touched him; the same as if he was pressing a button to start up a _machine_.

"Mind if I ask you something?" asked Hovis, once he finally finished the process of bandaging both hands.

Kennedy was still watching the palms of his hands, like he was expecting something to happen to them. So the butler asked away.

"Doesn't this injury cause you pain?"

Kennedy blinked. "Pain."

"Yes... _pain_."

The face of the alien squinted like it'd been asked a question under the threat of a gun to the head. "Pain. I don't know what you mean by pain. Is it a new word to learn?"

"A new _word_?" the butler responded in disbelief. "No, it should be something you can feel."

"... Do you feel it- pain, like happiness?"

"What?"

"Like what I learned from reading."

Impatience set in his voice, something weird he hadn't anticipated. "Your species doesn't know anything about pain, none at all?"

Kennedy's eyes widened, unable to understand. "Species... what does that mean?"

"Out of all the things I've read about aliens, why would that be impossible for you?"

Never had Kennedy been hard-pressed to think critically about anything before; but for an entire month, watching his caretakers and only abled "teachers".

Kennedy had given up looking for an answer. "I just don't know."

After that was silence, till the alien surprised the other by asking a direct question: "I want to know something."

"Well, if you want to _know _anything, why not just read it out of a book?" said Hovis, choosing that moment to leave because of a weird noise he heard downstairs.

"Why is my name 'Kennedy'?"

"A flimsy and faulty method of choice," he said.

_BOOM! _

Neither had time to properly react when a rotted corpse with a green smoke pouring out of his mouth suddenly burst through the top left corner of the bathroom walls, shattering the glass. Both residents had indifferent reactions, but Hovis was the one who sounded more agitated than anybody else. "Safer to assume that Waffle probably caused this."

Ken began to get worried. "Waffle? Why? What _is that?_"

Hovis sighed, grabbed Kennedy by the arm, and he suddenly pulled out both a moped and a large blue helmet putting it on as he got on the vehicle with Kennedy jumping right behind him. The alien was beginning to make enough to sense to know that the horrific thing that jumped out at them in the bathroom, now accompanied by several terrifying duplicates, was dangerous. "Those are zombies. Living dead."

_VROOOM!_

"_Ack! oof! EEk! Aek! Oh! OOF! ACK! EEK! ECK!_"

_CRASH!_

All the respected party had a rude landing down a _large _steel shaft. It opened up right into one of the 3 basements the house had. Blik was the first to _flip! _out and fall right on the floor. next came Gordon, Kimberly, and last of all, Waffle.

All 3 had fallen right on top of Blik, who calmly assessed the situation before acting on the first impulse: exploding and knocking everybody off of him.

"AGAIN! _EXACT, SAME, THING!_" He yelled.

Kimberly was still shivering. Blik stomped over to _slap! _his brother. "You _idiot!_"

"Ow!" Waffle recoiled from the awful sting of his brother's angry slap. "What'd you do that for!"

"Don't play dumb!"

"There is no game called _that!_ Are you trying to trick me AGAIN! *gasp* TRICKER!"

Not one to interrupt a spectacularly crazy spectacle of stupidity in the face of their possible plight, Gordon decided enough was enough. He ran over and separated the two. "LADS! That's _ENOUGH!" _

"Oh man!" Kimberly cried, crawling into a corner. "I thought we were goners for sure!"

"There, you SEE! Human Kimberly's frightened out of her wits! How can ye be thinkin of yourselves when we've got someone to protect!" he snapped at both brothers, his sympathetic voice taking a sterner, admonishing tone.

"Will you PLEASE cram it!" Blik growled. "_There are Zombies upstairs, swarming our FURNITURE, GAMES, AND OTHER EXPENSIVE ITEMS, AND DESTROYING OUR HOUSE! _Though _most _of it MY stuff. Actually, I sort of own A LOT of stuff, like my nice arsenal of nuclear wea- _BUT that's beside the point! _YOU KNOW this is Waffle's _fault_!"

"Blik! I'm just as unhappy that zombies are probably eating out all those nice Haggis I had stored in the back of our king-suite refrigerator, But you can't go blaming Waffle!" Gordon said.

Nobody would've believed the look of incredulousness and sheer disbelief invading Blik's face in short span of 4 seconds. "Lemme ask you _something_," Blik began. "Are you _high, _or are you _retarded?_"

"... What-!"

"Never mind, _forget it_. FOR-GET it," Blik rudely ended the conversation, still shooting a cold stare at Waffle.

"Oh come ON!" Waffle snapped down at this dictator-styled sibling. "How was I supposed to know that cursed terrible incantation out of the dark tome of the Romero Infanalia of the damned wouldn't go great with the _sour cream!_"

Gordon wasn't going to be merciful with his brother. "Waffle? Remember what we _talked _about earlier? About you getting the _**Blue Cookbook**__, from the __**Green **__Room_?"

Waffle put a paw to his mouth and tried really hard, _really, really _hard to remember. "Uh... but, wasn't that _actually _**Green Cookbook**, and **Blue Room**?"

Gordon sighed. "Noooo... _Green Cookbook, _blue ro-!"

"Enough," Blik put a paw on his brother's shoulder, forcing himself to be calmer. His voice lowered to a dull indifference. "Give Waffle a minute to sort it out in his head." Gordon had no choice but to concede.

Waffle analyzed it over his head to make sure he'd gotten it right, because as it turned out there _was _something out place with some of the things Gordon said, and more troubling was the fact that Gordon had told something like this happened before, and _he _couldn't remember any of it... It was true that a lot of the bizzare things around the Cramdilly house were caused indirectly _by _all three cats or just Waffle himself. They were _head-spliting _events, insane, and not as easy to forget... why would _he _not remember something as equally mindblowing as an event involving _zombies_...? Could Gordon have... was he _right_?

_*PING*_

"ZOMBIES! WAAAAH! Gordon!" Gordon did not foresee Waffle bombarding him and grabbing him by the neck in a panic, nearly choking the surprised cat. "_There were Zombies here last time! I just suddenly remembered_!"

On the side, Blik entered with a dull, "Oh no. Zombies in the house. My god, we are dooooomed. Somebody dig us a deep, dark grave, so we can stick our _paws _in the gaping hole. Clearly we've _never_ had anything like this happen to us before."

Waffle nodded in complete agreement. "That's what I thought too, but there _were _here before! And _I brought them! By Accident! Reading a Book_!"

"Yep. Scottish Book of the dead. Book of the dead that are, _were _in their graves. Rotting. Like Corpses. Cause they were dead. Till you brought them back. With your reading. Cause you got smart with reading. Cause it made your brains smart. With thinking."

Gordon made a nasty look at his brother, but Waffle looked more determined than ever. More than he should've been, actually. "This is NO time for thinking! We've GOT to do something! At this rate, our house will be destroyed! To BATTLE! EXCELSIOR!"

Blik held his breath. "Yeah... We've established that."

_CRASH!_

The Cats were caught off surprise and blown back. Immediately, Waffle the first to call, "THEZOMBIESHAVEINVADEDEARTH! !"

"Waffle it's _not _the _zombies!_" Gordon yelled as he got in front of the shivering Kimberly. Blik, in a strangely calmed mood picked that moment to say, "What _kind _of zombies _invade? They're ALREADY in the Earth, why bother using ships from the sky to freaking INVADE a planet they're inhabiting by the dozens already?"_

"... Just to borrow from 'ya dictionary for a wee few seconds, Lad, but will you _JUST CRAM IT ALREADY!_"

Once the smoke finally cleared it was none other than Hovis and Kennedy, who'd crashed right into the basement via ocean blue moped. Both looked just as shaken up by the sudden arrival of the Zombies, but neither looked incredibly terrified. Either way, Waffle rubbed both his eyes and screamed:

"OH! It's not Zombies, it's a... _bald guy and an Alien!_ AAAAAH!"

"Apparently the house is under the threat of being usurped by the reanimated corpses of up to a million innocent once living organisms," was the first thing Hovis said as he jumped off his moped, accompanied by Kennedy. "... Do I need to know how _that _came about?" This was directed at Waffle who did not know he was being referred to.

Blik's answer was a quick, dismayed, "Uh, no."

Seeing as how Kennedy and Hovis were safe (Usually because in any such event involving supernatural things and UFOs and other ridiculous insanity, Hovis was the first to escape and inexplicably turn up again), Gordon took the reigns. "All right, lads, obviously _whatever _the reason-"

"_Waffle._"

"-Shut up, Blik. We've got Zombies in our house, but thankfully this time, we've actually got a weapon on our side. Waffle's lasers!"

Blik's eyes popped open to TV size. He was surprised to hear Gordon say something like that. "You're _joking_."

This definitely was the single most bizzare thing Blik thought he'd ever hear out of his brother. Everybody, minus Kennedy, was staring at the Scottish-accented feline like he'd openly admitted to beating up little kids.

"... What are lasers?" Kennedy broke the silence.

"They are large beams of light. Damaging large beams of Light," Hovis told him.

"Lasers! Splee!" Waffle cheerfully screamed, while Kimberly came to strange realization. "Lasers...? Wait, are you guys talking about Waffle's _Laser Light Show_ from 2 years ago?" Dancing and jumping excitedly in the background Waffle again went, "Woo! Laser Light Show! Splee!"

"Yep. Despite what Blik _said_, I told Hovis to keep those in place for a defense system."

Blik's lower lip quivered, and he would've burst out shouting in Gordon's face, if not for the ego. "Yeah, that sounds like a great idea. But question, _Gordo_. _Why _would you bother using a laser light show when we've got weapons?"

Gordon was perplexed. "Aye... I don't follow." Blik sighed and tried again. "Come off your _high _horse, _please_. YOU'RE the first person in this house that's always in favor of taking the _stupid _way out of things! YOU'RE the person who's always like, "EM _Gerdo, end em gunna cut through en enemi weth me meighty giant encient relec Scetts swerd! Cause ELL potent-shially lefe frhetening shitetuations gots ta have MEE screeming me hed off ento de NEIGHT with me feroceous wempy cre ef En de NEME ef de Heghland Qed Clen feel me steng!_"

Gordon let his mouth drop open, and it stayed that way for a couple of minutes.

"Wow. That was incredibly mean," Waffle said to his brother.

"It's _true_, you know," Blik said superlatively.

"But that was still mean!" Waffle shouted at him. "Maybe he just liked my laser light show so much and thought that the zombies also liked it, that... uh... that the zombies would like to see it again!"

_SLAP!_

Gordon was still reeling, his feelings and his pride burnt to pieces, unable to completely recover. As much as he wanted to get even and claw his rotten brother's face off, the bigger problem still lay at hand. Surprisingly, he was wondering how, _and _why, the zombies hadn't bothered trying to get down here into the basement. It was basically an entire _repeat _of this house's last zombie infestation. Out of his fur coat, he pulled out a small black controller with a big red button and a big green button respectively on top.

"Plan A, Ladies and Lads," said Gordon, "We'll fry those scummy zombies in about a couple of seconds!"

"Woo, go Gordon!" Waffle shouted.

Blik grumbled, "There'd _better _be a _Plan B_."

Gordon pressed the button.

(_Meanwhile Outside_)

Meandering hordes of the undead wandered too eerily close towards the large powerhouse only a mile away from the Cramdilly Residence. The powerhouse was whirring sending a charge of electricity. One of them, an unusually less-than-looking degraded rotting corpse dragging a giant axe along the ground, blood red eyes aflame with a strange attraction to the sound, smashed through the gate, lifted the reeking axe high into the air and...

_SMASH!_

(_Basement_)

The lightbulb hanging in the middle of the room seen by everyone suddenly went off. Kimberly screamed, prompting Gordon to rush over and shield her from any oncoming danger.

"What's happening!" Blik screaming.

Didn't take much thought for Hovis to understand what happened. "I believe the generator's gone out."

"NO WAY!" Blik yelled. "NO! NO! That DIDN'T HAPPEN!"

"I'm afraid it did," Hovis assured him. "_However_, the auxiliary should be on in about..."

_*PING!* _

"Now."

"So..." Waffle began, "The zombies are fried?" He looked at Gordon, who was still pressing the button on the device like crazy. "Dead batteries?" Blik was asking Gordon. "NO! This remote is powered by the generator! It's DEAD!"

Blik cleaned out both ears before saying anything more. "I take back everything I said earlier, Gordo, this _was _an equally stupid option!"

Gordon got angry. "Yeah, you keep on piling it on like that."

Kimberly looked fearful, and though Gordon was true as steel to his promise to protect her, he couldn't help but look admonishing. "Don't worry, Human Kimberly! We _will _get you out of here!" He walked over to the other side to reveal a section of the wall that was almost 'out of place' with everything else. As he tapped the bottom left portion the section of wall flipped to reveal a gigantic arsental of weaponry. Medieval weaponry. "And me and my brother _will_ FIGHT these Zombies! And we WILL win! _Plan B!_"

"Plan B! _Splee!_" screamed Waffle.

Blik's mood didn't change one bit. "So we're really going with plan B! Are you CRAZY! WE'LL GET GROUND INTO CAT BITS!"

Gordon ignored him still angry and still furious with what Blik said earlier. He walked over and grabbed, out of all things, a medium-sized hammer with a silver cat head effigy on top. "We're definitely going to _win _this time. Grab a weapon!"

Blik shrugged his shoulders, deciding against his better judgement that _going _out like a idiotic vigilante was a hundred times better than whimpering in the corner like a coward. That was weird though... in situations like these, though he never liked admitting it, not even _once_, _he _was the first to squeal like a little girl and flee in the corner. Where _did_ his sudden cool-headed attitude and nerve of bravado come from? He was starting to _like _it. Oh well; nothing left to do but pick a weapon off the wall. They were all of the same strange style of medieval weaponry that old Mrs. Cramdilly favoured. Blik picked the large sword with a mace fixed to the tip of the blade.

"All right, let's do this," said Blik, taking the weapon off the wall. Then he turned to Hovis and Kennedy said, "Keep him out of trouble."

"Of course, sir."

Waffle bobbed over, excitedly screaming, "Yeah, let's do this!"

_SLAP!_

"No, no! Bad Waffle!"

"Aw, come on!" he whined.

"Waffle, you made zombies come out of nowhere again. You're staying HERE with the bald guy, alien, and buck-toothed chick."

"What!" Waffle burst out screaming.

"You HEARD me, Dipmaster."

"Awwww..." Waffle sadly walked back over to Kimberly's side. Kimberly from over in the corner suddenly yelled, "Huh? Buck-toothed chick! I have one gap in my teeth!"

"It's for the best Laddie," Gordon was still concerned for both his love interest and brother, aware they wouldn't last against the zombies. "This way, I will know that Human Kimberly is being protected. Can you protect her?"

Waffle put on a stern confident look. "Yeah! I'll protect her even if it costs me my newts!" which made Gordon laugh, though as he turned around, his face looked grim. Waffle hurried Kimberly into second section of room out of Hovis and Kennedy's view, while Blik and Gordon ascended the stairs to the door.

Kennedy kept staring after them. The door opened once then both disappeared behind it. His face didn't show any signs of depression; but was there something else? There was, but he couldn't describe it.

"Hovis."

"What is it now?"

"If they lose to zombies, do they... die?"

He gave the alien a strange look. "Of course they will."

"But you're a butler. You told me once that Butlers protect their masters..."

This was interrupted by cold laugh from the older man. "I think you're thinking of something different. My boy, Butlers _serve_ their masters. Though I suppose it would be somewhat much the same thing."

"So if it's like your job, then... shouldn't you help them?"

"You're very unusual today. Why the sudden barrage of questions?" Hovis asked him, sounding worried.

"Are Zombies... bad?" Kennedy struggled to say.

"I would _assume _so, considering that the only way to eliminate them is by severing the Head from the body," the old man said in a matter-of-factly voice. By this point, Kennedy's first _real _expression of pleading anxiety was standing out over his _blasé, _indifferent face. "Are actually implying that I should _help_? The last time I did, I didn't fare as well. Nor did my Masters. Waffle came through with his lasers."

"But something happened to make the lasers _not_ work, right? We should... do something," Kennedy insisted. His hands in-subconsciously started to ball themselves into fists.

"You are a puzzling case. What the devil is wrong with you? What specifically do you expect ME to do?... Are you mad? Those zombies will Kill US!"

Kennedy's look of bizzare need resumed its' original uncolored plainness. "Can't you just grab one of those weapons on the wall?"

"_Those _are Mrs. Cramdilly's antique weapons. Basically for the _show_, not the _use_. But Gordon and Mr. _Blik_ are of more reckless thinking."

"They can't use... weapons? They're not... not use?"

"The word you're looking for, Kennedy, would be _useable. _As for the answer, no."

"Then why not use a real sword?" Kennedy's voice rose to a scream.

"Where in the world do you expect me to gain a _real_ sword?" Hovis thought it was stupid that he was _arguing _with an alien of all things about things like _chivalry _and... utter complete nonsense. Till he realized where Kennedy was _really _going. "Are talking about that...?"

Kennedy looked like his flesh was about to catch fire, then in his right hand appeared a fine and sharp-looking black sword from out of nowhere.

"That's starting to become less startling the last times I'd seen it."

Kennedy's expression was shadowed by confusion. "Other times...?"

(_**3 weeks ago**_)

_"Mmm... mmm...!...mmmm!" The giant brown sack with a green mop head kept wriggling like a hyperactive worm. Blik was yelling his head off, and Waffle was clutching the buttoned end like a spider. "Wo-o-o-oo-oah! HE'S quick!" _

_Blik was coming over with something huge that was shaped like a bat. "Gordon, GET IN HERE!" _

_Enter Gordon whose face was full of terror like you wouldn't have believed. "Is it doing THAT again!" _

_The alien with steely bold eyes wriggled his mouth free of the binds on his mouth. "SHITTE! PUBS AIN'T SHITTE! THAT DAFT FUCKER WITH ALL THE TROLLOPS AND ODD BOOLLLOOCKS! WHAT KIND OF FUCKING WANKERS DRIVES HOME WITH THAT-!" whatever he was screaming was muffed out by Gordon's firm fists. _

_It took two hours, a Dog's muffle, and newt pellets, to finally make the alien be quiet. _

_Blik asked the entire "Staff" to assemble in the meeting room. A wide room with a concave supercomputer in the background that monitored all of the the house interior, exterior, and if necessary, the bathrooms. The most sophisticated software that was rarely ever used. Blik appreciated having a more "interesting" background when holding things such as family meetings. Hovis was there as well, standing near Blik's chair. _

_Gordon tossed the first bone. "He's been at this for like what? __**3 days!"**_

_It took some time for Blik to respond. "I THOUGHT that was the reason we tied him up! To prevent the curses from flying out of this house!" _

_"Blik, you've got any ideas that would've worked better than that? This EIN'T some regular alien we're dealing with!" _

_Blik shrugged his shoulders and said quietly to himself, "Everything about this whole... thing just seems so _crazy_. Alien looks human, and when it starts speaking, it spews foul language, running around like a chicken that's lost its' head... no pun intended." _

_Gordon looked down at the table. Agitation was setting in. "And there's that little thing with blanking Waffle's memory..." he pulled out a large gun with a dish-styled end nose. "So he doesn't remember." _

_"HAHHAahaha... are you KIDDING!" Blik's uproarious laughter was echoing off the walls. "BEST thing ever!" _

_Gordon had never seen his brother like this. With such odd tastes in humor, to boot!_

_"I mean, we both know that he's "Sensitive" and everything, but I never imagined that something like THIS would happen. I mean, how cool is that, cause I've never got to try that laser!" Blik was drooling as he grinned bigger. _

_Gordon had no rebuttals. All he could do was stare at the blank, empty stare of a Waffle who had the bottom half of his mouth hanging slightly over, drooling. The pupils in his eyes shrank to tiny atoms, he practically had 20-20 vision, just like the hippies of the "psychedelic" Eisenhower era. Yep. It was all Men in Black up in here! _

_Gordon how free-minded and fun-loving and sometimes crazy his brother was; appreciated his brothers' boundless joy and simple-minded curiosity, but Gordon was afraid, no, he FEARED a lot about him fully understanding the ugliness of the world - which for all reasons standing, isn't necessary. Waffle tried the whole "Evil Ruler" thing once; it lasted for one day. _

_"That reminds me..." was the second conversation starter, when Blik turned towards the finely dressed servant standing next to the chair as instructed. "HOVIS! This is your fault!" _

_"I fail to see any of the responsibility blamed on me for-!" _

_"Ehh, WRONG answer. Don't you DARE use your typical _smugness_ on me! I know you've been laughing behind my back!" _

_"Where in the world would you get that kind of impression?" _

_Blik would've made a sharp reply, given that he could take any kind of tone he wanted with his servant, but he found he had none. Then an excuse came to mind. "That DART BOARD! HAH!" _

_"You mean Hovis has a dartboard with your face on it!" Gordon tried his best to not burst out laughing. "Oh-ho, man, I've GOT to try that out!" _

_Nothing enraged Blik more, and since Gordon saw it on his face, pondered where specifically the stress on his brain was hitting, hard enough to make him forget _when _it was good time to shut his fat mouth._ _"Uh-uh-I MEAN, bad! Yeah, Bad! kinda. AHEM! But, well, Blik DID give you responsibility over our Alien guest didn't he, Hovis? What's the story on that?" _

_"I've had my suspicions about this "Aliens" odd nature beforehand when he awoke. Cursing and yelling and raving and all sorts of... unpleasant, ill-mannered innuendo," was Hovis's reply. "The fact is the moment he awoke, he called me a... whiny whore." _

_Blik stiffened his ears harder, despite the fact that he was overcome with an insane laughing fit that threatened to make his skull burst. _

_Gordon was completely different. He was stern-faced. "Go on." _

_"Then, his body started to shake, then he shot out of the guest bed, tearing the room apart in a BLIND RAGE!" _

_"That explains the crash," said Blik. _

_"And the Ottoman!" _

_"... And the broken ottoman," was Blik's input._

_"And all this while he spouting out some intelligible bangled garbled gibberish till he stopped with such strain. Oddly enough he turned back to me like he expected me to, and his eyes were twisting into all sorts of odd shapes, as he asked me if I was looking for uh... ah..." _

_"A what?" Blik asked, now getting anxious. _

_"... a sword." _

_Unable to decide if such the alien's behavior was mindless or planned, Gordon thought about bailing. "Wow. Yeah, I've got... nothing." _

_Blik turned towards Gordon and yelled, "Of course you wouldn't have nuthin, cause NONE of this makes any sense!" _

_"What I can't put my finger on is, what triggered that insanity." _

_Blik shook his head. "Gordo, you sound like a cheesy Conspiracy theory movie." _

_"I sound like a what?" _

_"You know, Government conspiracy movie. With the aliens, and super-technology and all that junk, Waffle was watching a marathon of it last weekend!" _

_"Oh shut up, Blik! Maybe he's got DID!" _

_"I would've believed that, if it wasn't so obvious," was Blik's reply. _

_Gordon expanded his argument. "First it starts out being completely lifeless, then suddenly burst to life, only to start using ugly language and say it wants to give Hovis a sword. Yep. Sounds insane, like an internet fanfic. But think about it like this; did you notice that afterwards it changed it's behavior, just like that? I mean, for the rest of the next day, it remained a mute!" _

_"Might I suggest attempting to figure out WHERE this alien came from, before has another opportunity to commit bizzare acts?" Hovis asked, not trying to be interruptive. "Weren't you in some stages of planning how to find out where he came from, Mr. Blik?"_

_Blik was at a loss for words, because he could only remember the sweet taste of root beer floats down his shrimpy little throat for the last week and a half. "Yeah... uh... I'll get back to you on that." _

_"So, then, Hovis, why would it ask if you wanted a sword?" Gordon asked him. "That sounds really confusing. No. Actually I've noticed something else." _

_"Are you just doing this BECAUSE you love hearing yourself talk?" Blik curtly pondered aloud. _

_"No, Blik, shut up! This is actually important! Did you hear some of the things it said the last time we got into a hassle knocking it out!" _

_"Trying REALLY hard to forget that actually happened," said Blik, "Why would you want to bring THAT up?" _

_"Aren't you paying attention? I'm trying to focus your attention on his accent!" _

_And Blik thought he heard everything, though most the things he was hearing sounded like some deranged fanatics um... fantasy. He slowly and deliberately singled out the words Gordon would've expected him to say. "The alien... has an _accent_. Aliens have accents?"_

_Waffle, still sitting with the same empty expression on his face, was gradually beginning to snap out of his memory-wipe-induced trance, attempting really hard to focus on all the voices he was hearing the room. _

_"Well... yeah," Gordon said. "I mean, I don't know HOW, but it does! I mean it used words like "Wanker", "Pub", and, I don't know, "Trollops"? Okay, fine that's maybe hard to believe, but you'd think that alien was speaking with an upper lip and a higher class!" _

_"You might as well put a gold necklace and a freaking heavy crown on the top of his head. I mean, do you honestly expect ME to believe that...!" _

_Waffle broke free out of his trance. He could hear clearly now, his head was clear (about 100% clear most of the time.) The first thing simmering like a hot coal on his mind he burst out yelling with glee, "He's got a funny accent like Hovis!" _

_"Lad..." Gordon said, "You're conscious now?" _

_"Yeah... I think..." said he. _

_"Funny accent like Hovis! What is that supposed to MEAN?" Blik demanded. _

_Waffle bobbed up and down. "He's got a funny accent, Hovis has a funny accent! Like they both came from England!" _

_"What is he jibbering about?" Blik shouted at all within earshot. _

_"What _I _was trying to say, Blik. Waffle's right. This alien sounds like he came from England... and I haven't the faintest clue why I said that or how it makes sense, but it does, so..." _

_"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't chalk up this whole stupid conversation to my file of Grade-A Baloney! For the record, the last time I checked, Hovis has been under whats-her-faces' service since his childhood!" _

_"Sir, while that may have been true," Hovis began. "I would like to point that it is also true that past generations of my lineage actually DID come from England. I lived there as well before coming _here_ to be a servant to Mrs. Cramdilly." _

_"Yeah, does it sound like we actually _care_ about that?_"

"BLIK!" _Gordon yelled at his brother, now accompanied by Waffle. _

_"What! What are you getting your knickers all KNOTTED up about! YOU'RE the ones who dug up that Stupid LOVE Jackal and turned our clean-cut butler into some sewer-mouthed spandex-wearing badly-singing unsuccessful barfbag!" Blik screamed._

_Hovis was in agreement, and somewhat happy to know that nothing of his embarrassing history out of _that _particular event wouldn't be brought up again. However, Gordon was not someone wanting to be shot down by Blik's typical unbelief and disapproval and defiant foolishness. He tried making another attempt to calm his brother down, "Blik. Listen..."_

_"No. YOU," Blik interrupted, with a strange calmness. "... This whole thing has been ONE confusing craziness after another. AND STUPID! FINE. You guys expect me to believe that this CRAZY-AS-BEANS "Alien" could be British or something stupid. FINE. You expect me to believe that he might have picked up on this simply from making some kind of "Genetical" contact with Hovis. _Gross_, but FINE. That he could have DID, FINE. That out of all the people he could be following around, it had to be this poor slob. FINE. Anything else we've left out!" _

_There was a long, awkward silence that was yet again broken by Waffle's simple-minded reply, "Well, how about a name?" _

_"A NAME HE SAYS! NAMES, NAMES, NAMES, oh WOW how could we forget a NAME!" _

_"Well, I mean, we know he's an alien, so why not? Identity is important. Cause you know, my name is Waffle!" _

_"I can see that," Gordon agreed. _

_Blik was going to rage more, then bailed when he saw, to his displeasure, the lack of flaws in logic in Waffle's argument. "Fine. Me too." _

_"I was thinking Trevor! No, Johnny! Uh, wait, TINA!, How about CORN!" _

_"Uh, laddie?" Gordon gently interrupted. "I'm not sure those are good names." _

_"You're A MADMAN! CORN is a good name! You're just jealous!" _

_"It's just that they're... good names. _For pets. Yeah!_" Gordon assured him_. "You already named one of your Newts Corn, didn't you? Y-yeah! Corn the Newt!"

_"I always said that Newt looked like corn. That's why I gave him that name!" said Waffle. _

_"That's because it WAS an actual EAR of Corn, you idiot," said Mr. Blik. "From the trash can. Of the last barbecue. That aside, your list of names are lame. They sound like names for pets." _

_"But I thought the alien... was a pet," Waffle said. "With a green hair mop." _

_"Green hair does NOT make it Corn!" Blik shouted. _

_"oooooh..." came Waffle's answer when he realized the obvious. "Well, I did have this other idea." _

_Blik was getting tired of the antics and prepared to grab a bag with bees in it. "Waffle, if this has ANYTHING to with NEWTS I'm gonna..."_

_"Take 9 pieces of paper and write down names on them and then just pick a random one that comes up and settle with the one that gets picked." _

_Both the black and the fat cats sat in stunned silence, mulling over the idea. _

_Blik sank back into his seat. "... Actually yeah, that could work." _

(_Present_)

"If I offered you a sword during those times, why can't I remember it?" Kennedy asked him.

"That's what I'm wondering myself, among other things," Hovis said. "But... the stranger question is, how can you do that?"

Kennedy shook his head. "I haven't the... faintest... clue. I don't... know. But the they need help, they're important."

There were many problems with what was happening in front of him. An alien, who just happened to be given the name "Kennedy", with an accent vaguely familiar with his own, who came _out of large meteor,_ was offering him a sword; but was really safe let alone sensible to accept it? Was there any point. Sure, _fine_, Waffle was told to stay behind and guard Kimberly. The laser system was down, and somehow the 43-year-old had a lot of doubt that a couple of cats could handle a couple thousand zombies. Add this to a _whole _year's experience with servitude to a trio of idiot cats who have in the past indirectly _caused _him harm in their insane escapades and brought up his embarrassing history, got mixed up with hillbillies and less-human-looking beings from other planets, and elements of the supernatural that would've made H.P. Lovecraft's head _implode._ Maybe, Hovis thought, that underneath the shelled facade of smug reservedness, he'd gone insane. That as the hand rubbing up and down his face was his own, he discovered he felt nothing left of the pragmatic 41-year-old man who'd been forced to watch his kindly fomer mistress's corpse be lowered into her grave. And that everything mentioned before he felt stupid for thinking about.

And that maybe he'd overreacted a little, when he thought that those complete imbeciles were out to abuse him, not just Blik. They _were _important. Sort of. If not for the paychecks to be signed, then what else? Without them, he had no job. Hovis _needed _them.

"I don't know what sort of nonsense this is, if its magic or the devil's luck or something silly like that," he started to tell Kennedy. "But... BUT... but I'm going to _laugh _all of this off when its' over. So... I'll take that respectfully."

Whichever of the two were surprised the most, could not be determined. Hovis grabbed the handle of the sword.

Kennedy eyes widened. "I don't have control."

"What...?"

"That sword... I think it belongs with you now."

"I have not the faintest inkling about what you're talking about."

_CRASH!_

"What... was that?" the asked the expressionless alien.

"That would most likely be the sound of the Zombies about to take over- HEY!" the butler was sorely cut off when Kennedy used his surprising strength to drag pull Hovis towards the door.

Tons of the windows were cracked, with plenty of zombie residue in place. Discarded portions of zombie parts, like fingers, hands, and other unmentionables, made for nasty garnish. Lots of furniture was in disrepair. The wall sheets were torn and looked like the curled aftermath of a cat's rampage.

But none of this seemed to affect Kennedy, who stood staring at the entire scene as he would've coming up to a perfectly normal setting. Echoing against the walls were the unfortunate cries of couple of felines in the distance. Still holding onto his odd trinket like a keepsake, the old butler looked almost completely out of character with the rest of the house.

"I-I'm sure that's probably them. They must be out in the living room."

"Neat."

"You have ANY idea where that is, Kennedy?"

Kennedy's reply was a short, dismal, "No."

So it was up to the butler to actual take _charge _for this.

(_Meanwhile_)

Waffle was hanging on the handle of the door of the room where he Kimberly were holding up. It had gone deaf silent outside.

Kimberly suddenly asked, "I think there's nobody outside."

"Uh, I don't think we should probably leave," Waffle told her.

"But what if Gordon's in danger?"

"Uh, I guess he'll be fine? I mean, he's a warrior! Battle Axe! Splee!"

Kimberly saw that leaving would be difficult; that and she was _seriously _worried about Gordon. He was definitely the closest she'd ever get for having a boy _friend_. He meant _so _much to her... and she couldn't bear the thought of leaving when he probably needed help the most. Thus she had an idea.

"Uh... I think Blik said that there was cookies behind the door."

Waffle's eyes popped open with an unbalanced level of wetting joy. "COOKIES? Oh boy! Let's Go!"

(_Back to..._)

Gordon and Mr. Blik were evenly mismatched in every respect. Both were back-to-back with the large horde of zombies closing in around them, both with the shrinking confidence and growing unpleasant revelation about that they neck deep in real trouble.

"How... DID..." Blik struggled to say, dodging and ducking all of the nasty swings of the zombies terrible arms, and swatting back, with no success. The fact was, he found the idea of his _perfect _fur getting messed up unpleasant. "WE get... CAUGHT in... the exact sa-... same... situation... like... (_WOOSH!_)... _last time!_"

"NO talk... fightning... for lives... important..." Gordon replied, under the same amount of pressure. "CAn't... think of... witty... reply!"

Blik seemed to snatch a free moment to yell, "Well, you're _Gordon McQuid of the Fatheaded Quid Clan so I'm NOT surprised!_ YAAH!" Because one of the zombies swiped at Blik, but all though it _missed_...

_CRACK!_

The sword broke. Blik stared at it with dismay, even while the increasing horde of zombies were coming on. Blik stared at the broken portion of the gigantic Mace-sword like he'd lost part of himself somewhere. "Oh. Wow. I feel strangely empty."

Gordon managed swinging down the sword, again taking out 2 more zombies. Gordon was starting to feel unease- the Hammer's face was slowly but steadily chafing and getting clumsier after 295 zombies (_He was proud of his ability to keep up with the number of battles_). It wouldn't lost another second longer, he realized. Problem. "Well, brother, this is it, we're about to go down like warriors in the glorious onset of battle! I'm not proud that I'm going to die here, but..."

"Yeah, speak for _yourself_," Blik said, choking up and barely retaining any stableness to his words. "I'm going out like a "wee little girl". I... _I _never even got a chance to _have. ANY. DINNER!_'

Not too far away, two of the least likely people in the world were at the scene, with mixed displays of indifference and horror.

"Great," Hovis. "They're doomed."

"Do you actually find this... the word is... "appealing"?"

"I was being sarcastic."

"I don't know what that means."

"Never mind."

Kennedy didn't understand what he meant- nor why he had this feeling that _he _had to do something. And that feeling was getting stronger. "Do you know how to fight?"

"Given the weird things have happened lately, I don't see any reason to say nothing. I've been instructed to act for _any _kind of situation."

"Mr. Hovis. So, you're some kind of butler and you've been taught? Like how you teach me? You know how to deal with _any_ situation."

"Yes, yes, the last time _this _happened, I was fighting with a mace. I am not utterly hopeless."

For the first time, the outrageous traces of a disbelieving smirk ran across Kennedy's face, then opened into a smile. He even amazed himself; he felt almost happy. "You can deal with this."

"I just _never _actually used a sword," Hovis interrupted him. But then he turned his attention towards the cats, taking calm strides over. "I'd better hurry this up." He didn't admit or say that voice was beginning to quiver.

Just as Kimberly wanted to help Gordon, Kennedy was starting to feel an unnatural urge of need, to help the person in front of him. The feeling alone triggered a number of bizzare ideas in his head that he hadn't known; it started to act like a giant fire. His head was burning up with the fire till he thought he was screaming...

_FLASH!_

Everything else flew over his head.

_Am I thinking? What is... that?_

Appearing right in front of him were words right out of the thin of the air; for a second, it felt like he was going crazy.

**Activated**

_What?... NO! I was going to help! I'm fading away... !_

**Begin Battle**

Hovis seemed to be the only one who was struck witless when something seemed to... fall out of place.

"What the... devil?"

He looked around him. Everything was still there, the house, the zombies (that for some reason had _slowed _their movement) and the cats were still there, still very much alive and still only seconds away from being devoured by zombies... but where was _Kennedy_?

"Hmm... this is unpleasant," was all Hovis could think to say, shaken up, and still holding onto the sword. A sudden and silent step sounded behind him, startling the butler, "Kennedy?"

It _was _Kennedy. But... something seemed out of place. His face, simple and rounded with eyes as wide as saucepans and without expression, were _sharpened _and looked wild; _exactly _like those of a wild man. All that empty black that was gone... the tint that was showing in eyes was an intense, venomous _sea green_.

"Kennedy...?"

The moment he started talking it was who he _was_, but it didn't sound like he _knew _Hovis. Nor did it sound he responded to the name _"Kennedy"._

"We're going to battle and take out the **Zombies**," said Kennedy, whose voice had a strange insulated echo to it. "Are you ready?"

None of what the person who wasn't Kennedy said came across clearly to the butler, who burst out yelling, "What the devil is going on! Are still in the house?... What is the matter with your pupils? Why'd they turn green?"

The person paid him no mind. Hovis thought one of them had gone mad, and if not for what happened in the basement earlier, he'd have treated the thought of himself having gone more crazy with better care. Nothing in the back of his mind said anything about whether or not this had anything to do with his "Alien" origins. At least, not until later.

"I'm fightning _now_. I'm fighting the enemy with you. And that's why I... I... !"

The last thing that happened, all at once, in front of the butler were going to be hard to believe. Kennedy threw out his hand and in materialized out of thin air a gigantic battering tool. Hovis had rubbed his eyes twice before the voice in head could scream,

_It's a... KEY! _

It was 5 feet long and the handle was golden, the other end was white and proportionally was similar to a skeleton key. It was the all the size of a sword. It even had a keychain at it's handle _base!_

The butler was now at the point where the confusion was only going to pile on itself. What in the _world _was going on?

Even as this was happening, Kennedy's actions had definitely garnered the attention of zombies, still an ever-growing mass. Hovis had forgotten all about them- something Blik was going to grill him over about later, for sure. But the zombies were now after _him _and Kennedy. It became too obvious that Hovis had made the worst mistake of his life.

"Kennedy move! Move! Oh, what the devil are you _doing!_"

Kennedy didn't bother flinching; he didn't seem to hear Hovis either. He had both feet grounded to the floor just as if they were put in cement.

"_Kennedy!_!" No use then; Hovis ran over to grab Kennedy and get him _away _from the insanity. One of the Zombies swiped at Kennedy, just as _he _swung the gargantuan-sized Key at the zombies- to Hovis' jawdropping surprise, the key cleaved the zombie in two. Kennedy's left leg jumped the gun, leaping in, the whole body following through as the arm swinging the key fell down into another zombie's throat, and smashing it open... and add to the insanity, the butler thought he was seeing something appear in the thin of the air over _each _of the zombies Kennedy was cleaving through at demonic speed. They were 4-digit numbers.

The left zombie had hollow numbers like a red neon sign hanging over its head for 3 seconds. The second zombie that was just crushed had more numbers above it, only for _those _to disappear. Kennedy pushed deeper into the wave of undead, more and _more _of them exploding.

Before thinking about what to do next, a badly shaken up Hovis tried _really _hard to take inventory of the whole scene in his head: _Okay, both my Masters are unconscious so they can't see what's happening: an alien with Green hair and eyes that can change pupil color has caused SOMETHING to happen to reality, and he is now... slicing his way through a gigantic horde of the undead with a gargantuan Key, and numbers are appearing over each head as they get SMASHED. So... apparently I must be going insane. But..._

Hovis managed to duck the swing of another large horde of Zombies that he appeared right behind. And the fact that he was still holding onto his ridiculous new trinket was starting to get annoying. _But I'm sane enough to know that I might have to actually start fighting back... HAVE I COMPLETELY LOST IT! _

He didn't see Kennedy, and whether this whole thing was simply a weariness-induced hallucination didn't seem to matter anymore. He may have had to. Hovis stood up and gripped the sword handle with all fingers. "I'm no better off if I didn't do the _sensible _thing."

His blood was pounding. But he charged headlong into the same group of zombies near his unconscious masters.

"_NAAGH!_" _SLASH! _

_"HAAAAH!" SLASH!_

_"AUG!" SLASH!_

Numbers _did _appear over the heads of the monsters Hovis beheaded.

(**309**)

(**203**)

(**231**)

"That's a bit odd."

"_RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGH!_"

"GAAH!" all Hovis could do was recoil in fear, but his next actions were dictated through sheer instinct. Without thinking he raised the blade while grabbing both Gordon and blik with the free arm. The left arm swung in a short arc, decapitating two of the zombies. Despite the fact his mouth had fallen wide open, Hovis toughened up and fled to an empty corner. Now he was beginning to appreciate the stupid weapon's long reach; but he did not stop sweating as he deposited the fainted Blik and Gordon.

It took him a few minutes, but he saw a discarded torn curtain blanket near one of the house's broken windows that would've made camouflaging the spoiled cats easier. Once that was over, Hovis gave in to that shaky feeling in his gut.

_They're safe but I've got to track down that insane Alien._

Hovis fled. When he re-entered the hallway, now in disrepair that a simple thousand clams couldn't fix in a week, it was sparsely loose with a fleet of zombies. But what happened to hundreds that were populating the hallway so many minutes ago!

"Oh... never mind!" He started screaming as he tackled two zombies standing aimlessly nearby. A quick _swing_ of the arm and sword flashed through both, cutting them up in less than a second. (**320**) (**233**) _Just laugh it off in the end, Hovis old boy... J-Just laugh it all off. You might have gone insane, but this will all be over soon_. _So... think of it as exercise! I-Indeed! You're getting exercise! _

"HAAAAARGH!" The butler looked like a deranged badger, thrusting himself and the sword in the loose rotting flesh - only to turn chalk white when the sword got _stuck _in the zombie. The Zombie floudered both arms, smacking Hovis in the cheek. "_DAH! ACKTPH! ACKTPH!_" _I'm going to die, aren't I?_

"Good _Lord!" _the butler screamed; A minute's struggling, and his new black coat getting tears in it, and he pulled the sword free. "This is _ALL INSANE!_"

_FLASH_

_Oh. No. The auxilary power's going to go out soon. _And he was right, to his own dismay. The flourescent lights above were flickering on and off; The auxiliary power the house was running on at this point would get taxed. It was supposed to be used in emergencies-

Like that was anything _surprising_. It wasn't going to be _very long... _his bones and aging limbs had gone numb at the thought.

The zombies howled as their degrading bodies merged like snake, attempting to overwhelm the frightened human.

_SLASH - SLASH - SLASH! _

(**203**) - (**323**) - (**100**)

Hovis blinked, his mind consumed in a white flash. _I'm going to suffer a heart attack after all of this. _But overhead, the lights were still flickering on and off, more rapidly than ever now - so once they were off, relying on the stupid sword alone wouldn't save the simple butler from getting flogged - with the _increased _chance he'd be _killed_. Lovely.

With that in mind, he ran away and still continued to run like hell in the direction the Zombies were headed. He reasoned that Kennedy was at the center.

But he could see that there were more and more zombies on the way there- and Hovis groaned.

(_Meanwhile_)

Both Waffle and Kimberly reached the top of the stairs, and both let out a speechless gasp at the scene before them. The house looked like it was in ruins, that and the lights were going out. Most of the furniture had been destroyed, paintings crashed on the floor. Kimberly didn't show that she was panicking on the inside as badly as Waffle.

Suddenly it occured to the dopey white cat that there _had _to be something bigger going on than just Cookies.

"Lots of corpses... and _beards_," Waffle said.

(_meanwhile_)

Tons of zombie heads were littered across the floor, up in piles, and shattered or sliced. literally a path of corpses were paving way into a wider clearing that lead up a set of stairs in the northwest wing of the Cramdilly House. For the very first time fighting for his life like an prisoner of a nuthouse, a certain servant reached a battle-insane high unlike anything he felt before as he reached the top of stairs and opened the door to his destination.

But at least unlike like time, the state of his clothes was clearly nowhere as bad and humiliating like the last time the house had Zombies. Then again, if Kennedy never came and Hovis hadn't been "drafted" into a new exercise routine, and if the electricity was _still on _allowing for Waffle's "laser light show" to work, he wouldn't even be _here_. Hovis had lost track of time; but he had to bet that it might have been past midnight. He was dead tired and was prepared to drop.

(_meanwhile_)

"Blik! Gordon! Wake up!"

Waffle shook Blik away. Blik dribbled in his sleep. Both Blik and Gordon awoke, safe and sound to the face of their younger brother and human girl. "Wow. Why are you guys wearing Curtains?" Waffle asked.

Blik gave his brother a strange look while Gordon stared dead-eyed at their surroundings. "Where are all the zombies!"

Blik was thinking the same thing in shock, but the first thing he did before saying anything was strangling his brother's furry neck. "This is EXACTLY the kind of thing that _happens WHEN YOU COOK!_"

(_meanwhile_)

The door opened. Behind it was a lavished, special dining hall area that the Cat's never bothered using. It had all the exquisiteness of a ball room, with a reflective floor, and on either side, a set of stairs that led towards an upper floor where multiple tables would sit, and guarded by a grand railing that ran along each side from one end of the ballroom to the other. The end of the room was a magnificent, grand stained-glass mosaic.

But now the glass was broken looking out on the naked sky. Covered up to its neck in zombies, the room was now surging ocean of walking dead, rippling at the dead center.

"Kennedy...!"

The butler didn't stand there. He ran right into the chaos. Zombies' heads were flying left, right and center, _in _the center. Every cell in the butler's body felt like it was a match lit on fire as he _beat_, _pushed_, and _sliced _his way into the center.

"Just _GET OUT OF MY WAY!_"

_SLASH - SLASH - SLASH - SLASH - SLASH - SLASH - SLASH_

(**434**) (**32**) (**23**) (**23**) (**21**) (**79**) (**89**)

Hovis just tried ignoring that he saw anything - that was easy part. When he could think of _nothing _else beyond how badly he wanted to sleep, how he wanted to _sleep_ away the whole crazy experience of the night away, the thought that his lungs were taxed didn't sound so bad after all.

"_RRRRRAAAAAAAAH!_"

He ducked the swipe of another zombie's bent arm, backing himself against someone else. "Don't start running off anywhere without my guidance from now on!" He yelled at the grass-haired alien.

Kennedy looked positively pristine, completely unfazed and confident. He finally acknowledged him for the first time, swinging that gargantuan weapon of fanatical origin at zombies. More zombies popped up like daisies, forcing him to up his guard. "I _had to fight!_ _UUUURGH!_" Now the grass-haired alien went on the offensive, punching the zombie in its "jaw".

The butler ducked off and yelped, unable to hear anything but the sound of his own breathing. He was staying close to the alien. "What-!" Interrupted by another zombie's swing, which he quickly cut off by sending the blade up. Now _all _the skill the white-faced man was building up was becoming frightening. He couldn't feel the sword he was holding anymore.

"... is that thing!"

With a powerful swing of the arm, he caused a large light wave to be unleashed, crippling a giant mass of the undead. The butler's mouth dropped open in shock; _what _kind of thing was this alien?

The alien did turn around to face him. "This is a Keyblade," he told him like it was the simplest thing in the world to know. "I can do things with it."

_Clearly I have gone insane. He calls that thing a Keyblade. _"I suppose that sounds _normal _to you. So like what...!" Hovis found himself asking immediately. Not that he was expecting an answer- but the answer came in two segments: the lights had finally gone out. The auxilary power shut down. Hovis could no longer stand and fell to his knees, not caring whatever insanity lay awaiting him next anymore.

The second, Kennedy grabbed the handle of the giant "Key" with both hands, then held up it high. Both zombie armies were still coming; his mouth curved into a grin.

"Like _this_."

The Key was starting to glow. The room was getting bright. You couldn't look at anything else because the large key became the sword of all light. The walls were painted with the haunting shadows of the large groups of zombies. The Keyblade as Kennedy called it, was causing the space around him to ripple; Hovis was going to scream, but he couldn't do anything.

And he noticed the outlandish weapon was changing shape. Kennedy's hands didn't budge, but the base _did_. It was shifting in and _out _of itself, splitting itself. The darkness gave away it's hollow interior- it looked more like it was becoming a doppleganger of itself. The dual keys crossed, fused at the center to form a huge _x-_shaped insignia. A greater blade emerged from the fused crossed point of the _two _keys, looking like a mighty _claymore; _both sides of the _sword_ (Hovis wouldn't bother with trivials anymore) erupted with an angled, diamond-colored lace like a pair of angel's wings.

All Hovis could do was let his numb legs remain fused in the floor.

"_O_. _My. God._"

The house was rumbling, like the light expanding from the sword was causing it. It was another miniature _earthquake, _Hovis realized in horror, just like the one that hit Bakersfield 3 weeks ago. Even now, the 43-year-old butler could stare hopelessly on. The entire room, and his body were consumed in white.

Ironic when Hovis suddenly blacked out.

**End battle**

_You have wake up sometime. _

_Who are you? _

_You've been asking me that since day one. _

_..._

_Can't remember? _

_No I can't. _

_You can't think of another generic identity question? _

_... _

_Then wake up, please. _

At the voice's command, Kennedy bolted upright from the floor. He didn't scream and he didn't feel consumed by fear. It was just in that solid blackness where he heard the voice, did he feel the world of nothing grip his body.

But now that all subsided. He couldn't remember anything of the last hours. Wide eyed and fully awake, his surroundings were unfamiliar, decorated with no less than dark-colored shards of shiny glass. The loud wind whistled through the gaping hole in the broken pieta behind Kennedy. Lying not too far from the grass-haired, human-looking alien was the unmoving body of Hovis. Kennedy crawled over. He noticed something else as well; in his left hand he was still holding onto the black sword.

Now Kennedy understood- Hovis must have taken out all the zombies. But why was he lying the floor like that? More importantly, how in the world did they both get here?

Neither question could be answered, when a door from far away suddenly opened. In walked the three cats, safe and sound, along with the human girl Kimberly.

All at once, the 3 cats yelled in surprise, "_Kennedy! You're all right!_"

Hovis woke up, groaning. Waffle and Gordon went over to Kennedy's side while Blik angry inspected the dishevelled servant. "What happened!" Blik yelled in his face. "What were you _doing!_ Why are you holding _THAT!_"

Hovis blinked confusedly till he took in his surroundings, the cats, Kimberly, _and _Kennedy, who regarded him with a strange kind of praise in the form of a subtle smile. This especially caught his attention because he could see that Kennedy's eyes had gone from _sea green _back to his original lucid, empty black colors. The angles and stern wildness in his face- those were gone too!

"I haven't the faintest clue what went on," was Hovis' answer. And it was the only answer he could think of.

Blik stepped back, and relented. He could see there wasn't a lot that Hovis could tell him.

"Um, sure, whatever."

"At least all the zombies are gone," Kimberly noted in relief. And everyone else was thinking the same thing.

"But our house is destroyed!" Waffle piped up. To which Blik responded, "Yeah. By the way, what have we _learned_?" He asked both Gordon and Waffle sternly.

Gordon sighed, hating it when Blik started acting like this. "Um, that its' always a _bad _idea to read from the Scottish book of the Dead?"

Waffle had a zombie's disconnected hand around his neck. His answer was, "That zombies' hands makes for the _coolest _beard?"

Kennedy came out of nowhere with the answer of, "That... I guess I'm glad I didn't taste Waffle's cooking?"

Blik slapped himself on the forehead, then pinched his featureless nose. "Close enough," he sighed.

"Mr. Blik," Mr. Blik heard Hovis say, "I would like to ask what you're going to do about the mess around the house. I suppose I should retrieve a mop at this point?"

Blik's eyes widened and he stared at his servant like he'd never heard him use such language. But he calmed down. "Duh. You're cleaning it up."

Hovis didn't say anything and got up. Kennedy said, "Maybe I can help?"

The servant looked at him strangely, while Gordon and Waffle looked at each other, and Blik scoffed. "If you want bad karma on your head, go ahead. Weirdo."

Kennedy didn't know what it meant, only that he was strangely accepting that he could be helpful.

Blik frowned, didn't look like was worried, and thought it over before talking again. "_Tomorrow_. You can just clean it up tomorrow. I mean, everyone needs some sleep. Gordon, you can take Human Kimberly home. Waffle, remind me to find that room where you found your little _cookbook_ so I can personally lock it."

"Okay," said Waffle, who was very surprised and happy to see Blik taking the entire situation with such ease and lack of _yelling_. Gordon didn't waste any time and led Human Kimberly out on the street for the evening.

During all of this, Hovis asked, "I'll get up early after getting some rest. Then I will get a mop."

"Yeah, you do that. But..." the bossy cat motioned for him to lean down. Blik started whispering in his ear. "_I'm going to find out what REALLY happened sooner or later._ _And keep an eye on this kid!_"

Kennedy couldn't hear and waited innocently.

"I wouldn't find _that _to be too difficult," was Hovis answer.

"Yeah... he's starting to creep me _out_," Blik said, frowning.

The greatest surprise for _both _that evening was actually discovering that they both_ agreed _on something.

(_Scene Change_)

It was fairly blunt decision that the guest room where they originally housed Kennedy since the start of the month became Kennedy's permanent guest bed. Lapsing twice out of his original personas, the grass-haired alien didn't think much of his living arrangements. Kennedy was like a lot of humans, not in expression, nor in his latent abilities to whom Hovis was its' only witness, but that like everyone else, he could get tired.

Hovis didn't think about any of the strange things that happened over the whole evening. Nor did he want to try and ask Kennedy, who appeared to have completely forgotten everything.

Now the servant was tucking him into his bed, tired beyond reason. As he turned to drag himself out, he flipped the switch, only to realize that the power was already out. And he'd have a lot of work to do the following day; that was going to be a treat. _The worst part, _he thought to himself, _I don't even have the energy to laugh this whole thing off. Really all I need is some sleep, a change of clothes, and then I can sleep this whole thing off. _

"Mr. Hovis?"

The servant turned around and stared blankly at Kennedy's blank face. "What is it now?"

"I don't remember a lot of anything... but... you never told me why my name is Kennedy."

Hovis looked up at him in surprise.

_(__**3 Weeks ago**_)

_"My new friend Conroy, see, he told me that was how his father gave me his name!" _

_"How could you know something like that?" Blik asked. "More importantly, how did you make a new friend?" _

_"3 days ago after the alien came. Let's pick a name! PICK A NAME, PICK A NAME!" _

_"OKAY, OKAY!" Blik yelled. "Gordon you do it, make it quick." _

_Gordon was already fast underway taking small pieces of paper and writing names on them. "Already doing it, lad." _

_In the silence that followed, Gordon finished, telling everybody in the room, "Okay, come over here." _

_Waffle, Mr. Blik and Hovis walked over. Blik who wasn't interested, suddenly became a little estatic. "So what're we gonna name the little bab-bie?" _

_Gordon dropped all the cards on their written sides on the table. "Okay lads. It works like this. We'll all randomly pick a name out of the pile first. Go!" _

_Despite all the drama Gordon was putting into it, all 4 members in the room picked up a name card. Then Gordon pulled out a miniature Vaccuum cleaner, sweeping away the remaining cards. "Okay," Gordon said. "Now we have FOUR cards. Lads. What're your selections? My card says "Patrick"." _

_Blik showed the name on his card. "Johnny. Now THAT'S a manly name. Wait a minute. Gordon, why did YOU have to be the one who writes down the names?" _

_"You agreed," Gordon pointed out. I wrote whatever came to mind. I, uh, I didn't have anything specific in mind at all." _

_Blik sneered at his brother, but decided to not do anything. "FINE. Waffle what's the stupid-poopy name you pulled?" _

_Waffle held up the card. "It says Anti-disestablishmentarianism." _

_Blik blinked both at the card and his brother. Gordon chuckled embarrassed. "Heh, uh, I really wasn't thinking at the time." _

_Waffle grimaced at the name. "I think it sounds cool." _

_"You WOULD. Do you KNOW what that means?" Blik asked him. _

_"Uh, a librarian? Like the one in the library that burned down last week, I'm not stupid, Blik, so pffft!" Waffle said, sticking his tongue out. _

_"AAAAAND we're coming down to the bald guy. Hovis! Show the stupid slip," he ordered his servant. _

_At this point Hovis exposed the name on the card. "Kennedy." _

_Gordon nodded. "Okay then, everyone throw down the slips. We'll have ONE person draw the final choice, then that'll be our new guests name." Everyone did, but Blik was getting annoyed with the potentially retarded possibility that they were going to have to start referring to their Alien guest as an "Anti-disestablishmentarianism". Gordon then stacked the cards, reshuffled them, and then let all four plop down in a messy pile._

_"Now the choice will definitely be random. So... who wants a go?" Gordon asked. _

_"OH NO!" Blik yelled, pushing Gordon out of the way. "I'm NOT going to get suckered into THIS again, so I won't give you the opportunity and choose the cotton-pickin name MYSELF!" _

_Gordon had no idea what Blik was getting angry about, but decided to just go with it and let Blik choose. _

_Blik was about to choose a name but then Waffle piped up with a question. "Wait. I mean is this right?" _

_"Huh?" said Blik. _

_"I mean giving an Alien a human Earth-bound name and identity? Wouldn't that sort of cripple him psychologically when he wakes up, possibly under the persona that wouldn't be able to fully recall the past self that used bad words and stuff? And if he finds out, wouldn't he be emotionally scarred or something?" _

_"Waffle this whole stupid idea was yours."_

_"No! Conroy gave it to me! Stop trying to blame me! Blamer!" _

_"You know what? Screw it," Blik said, ignoring Waffle. "We're already neck deep in this, so let's do it anyway." _

_Blik slowly reached for first card he saw in front of him. Now he was beginning to sweat. So was Gordon. Hovis, not at all interested, stared at his watch. Waffle made a fart with his armpits. _

_Blik sweat harder; now that he thought about it, Name choosing was a difficult process. He didn't understand why he didn't see it until now. _

Oh well, _he thought_. We're no better if we didn't do this. Yeah. That totally makes sense. Cause we're rich cats! We have money!... but then... does Money really matter in this case? GAH! Get it together, Blik Cramdilly! MONEY and fame always matters!

_He thought thinking that would calm him down, but all it accomplished was making his arm shake badly. Blik still managed to grab the first card he saw. No one knew what name it would be. The air suddenly became so tense you could slice through it. Now all Blik was hoping was that whatever the name choice would be it had to be something other than "Anti-disestablishmentarianism". _

_"W-what is it?" Gordon choked out. "Show us!" _

_Blik pulled up the name, "Kennedy". _

_Both cats breathed a collective sigh of relief. Blik snapped back into his usual, braggart self. "Ha! "Anti-Disestablishmentarianism" my crook'd little tail! Our new guests name is Kennedy. End of story!" _

_"Eh," Waffle sighed detachedly. "KInda lame though. Corn would've been a lot better!" _

_" "Kennedy" has _class, style, _and _distinction. _It's also rich sounding." _

_"Kennedy was the last name of the president that'd been shot in the head by an unknown assassin," Hovis stated factually. "It's also a very uncommon name. Kennedy happens to actually pose a bit of irony actually. It means "Armoured Head". Only JFK never had his head covered the day he got shot." _

_Gordon stared at his butler impressed, while Waffle hadn't a clue what was going on. "Wow," said Gordon. "Dark humour." _

_Blik sneered up at the butler and yelled, "Who asked you! Oh, and by the way, THAT doesn't apply! You want to know why? Cause in that scenario, _Kennedy_ Is the last name of JFK, _whereas _our Kennedy has it as a FIRST name, STUPID! So PFFFT!" _

_"Blik!" Gordon yelled at him. "What?" Blik yelled back. "Who cares what he says?" _

_"Well he's right on most accounts," Gordon said. "Come to think of it, "Kennedy" also means Deformed Head." _

_"Deformed Head! Splee!" _

_"And come to think of it, you are extremely boring," Blik snapped at him. "Who cares about meaning as long as it gives him identity? And Shut up, WAFFLE!"_

_Somehow Blik's last sentence had a large dosage of irony behind it, Gordon noticed._

"It was chosen to be your name," Hovis finished explaining to Kennedy. But Kennedy hadn't followed much of what he said.

"My name is unique," Kennedy said. "I'm Kennedy."

"Yes," Hovis said stoically. "Yes, that's the case. Nothing more to it. Your name is Kennedy."

Kennedy didn't look like he was in any deep thought. But a small smile formed. "But If it could've been a name different, I could have had another?"

Hovis was getting tired of answering questions, and getting tired period, but simply pushed Kennedy's head down onto the pillow and tucking him in. "Well, we certainly would have a lengthened debate over that, wouldn't we? Good night then, I need to get my own sleep."

Kennedy watched him go, then focused on the ceiling. "Mr. Hovis?"

Hovis didn't turn around but responded with, "Yes, what is it?"

"... Thank you for giving me the name, "Kennedy"."

Kennedy couldn't see the servant's face, which had melted to one of comical annoyance and dead surprise. "All right, enough of that, go to sleep." With that the servant was gone as he closed the door.

Kennedy spent the many minutes still thinking over all the things Hovis said as he drifted off.

As usual the attic was cold, but Hovis didn't seem to mind it anymore as slipped into a long-sleeve red shirt and red pants. Then he sat down on his bed bunker, he slipped on his night-mask to shut out the horrors of the evening. Now he could finally _sleep_ it off.

But he decided that no matter what he did there was no point in trying to sleep the whole thing off; he wouldn't forget the insanity that happened in front of his eyes, and was no way he could _disprove_ it happened- His right eye was still uncovered, eyeing the absurdly sharp blade sitting in the corner.

Hovis gave it bit of thought.

It was black as onyx, stained by zombie skin with dried blood, and dirt grit coating the tip. From his position it looked like the ugly brother he never knew nor _wanted_ had now come to stay, a bothersome, annoying thing which he held responsibility over.

Just one unnatural trait it and Kennedy seemed to share.

* * *

**NC: House Problems (Personal Gas)**

**Hiya. Where have I been? I've been to slay the jabberwocky and went on to save Narnia. **

**But the best feeling is getting this chapter done. So What HAVE we established so far in this chapter? Let's take some inventory. **

**- How Kennedy gets his name. **

**- Waffle's new Friend. **

**- "RETURN OF THE NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD: REANIMATED STYLE"**

**- How Hovis gets roped into this. **

**- Kennedy's reaction to pain. **

**- Kennedy's bizzare and unpredictable changes.**

**- The Keyblade thing - That and I decided to throw in a little something something that relates to something that just recently came out in Japan. **

**Apologies all around to Xegrot for letting me use one of HIS original characters in this story. It was last minute. **


End file.
